Remember Me
by supernaturalsam
Summary: COMPLETE! Nancy agrees to help out on a case for the FBI, but someone from her past will do anything to keep her from interfering in his plans. FrankNancy. PLEASE REVIEW! UPDATED ON JANUARY 26, 2007!
1. Have You Seen Me?

**Author's Note: Yay! Another story from me! Sorry it took so long to get it up, but I got a new laptop so I had to transfer files from my old computer to this one.**

**Some notes about this story: It has nothing to do with _Never Again _or _Landmine_. The only thing that will be from either of those stories is an appearance by Gwen Lawson. A few years has passed since the events of those stories, and as of right now Nancy and Carson have made up.**

**I am bringing back the character of Randy Wolfe from the Nancy Drew File #28-_The Black Widow_. If you can get your hands on that and read it, it will help you understand his character better and some of the things I mention in this story will be from that book.**

**Nancy and Frank are 23 years old and Joe is 22 years old. Nancy and Frank are also together in this story, so there will be no Ned (sorry to all of you Ned lovers out there!)**

**I need to say a special thanks to my three betas-katie janeway, tesubcalle, and roswalyn. You guys have been absolutely wonderful and supportive of this story. Thanks for putting up with my ramblings and anything else I may have done to the three of you!**

**Now...on to the story!**

**Oh, I own nothing except the twisted people that come from my head...**

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"And finally–Police say there are still no clues in the case of a woman missing from River Heights," a female anchor said somberly to the camera. "Twenty-three year old Nancy Drew was last seen by friends a week ago and has not been heard from since. Police are asking for anyone with information, please call the River Heights Police Department at 555-1013."

Twenty-three year old Frank Hardy shut the television off as a picture of Nancy popped up on the screen. He had seen and heard the story for a week now, and was pretty sure that he could recite the piece with the anchor in perfect unison.

It was frustrating for him to know that he couldn't find his fiancé. Even more so since he prided himself in being an excellent investigator, along with his twenty-two year old brother, Joe. They had not been able to come up with anything concrete on Nancy's disappearance. It was almost as if she had vanished into thin air.

And it hadn't been easy for anyone, especially Nancy's father. He was out of his mind crazy with worry and it wasn't getting any easier for him. He had looked at Frank and Joe expectantly every evening, just begging for some news on his daughter and they had disappointed him every day for a week. They had nothing to go on–they were just searching all over River Heights for some sign of Nancy.

But the worst thing of all was that they hadn't received one call from the kidnapper. No call demanding a ransom or to even say that she was all right. And just that one single fact was making some of them expect the worse. A little voice inside Frank's head was telling him to accept the worse, but he always pushed that thought away. Nancy was a strong, fierce woman–the strongest and fiercest woman he had ever met.

And so he wasn't about to assume the worst. They had a whole life ahead of them–a life full of love and happiness. They would find Nancy and she would soon be back with them. This, he knew for sure.

He started to think about kidnapping cases he had heard about on the news. The people that would come on and say they just knew that their loved one was still alive, even after a good length of time had passed. It was because of a feeling they had–some kind of spark that refused to be extinguished.

Well, Frank Hardy still had that spark. It was one thing that he and Nancy had always shared. On some weird mental level, they always knew if the other were in some kind of trouble. And while his mind told him that she was definitely in some kind of trouble, he knew that she would come out of it.

"Anything on the news?" Joe asked, interrupting Frank's thoughts.

Frank jumped at the sound of Joe's voice and then shook his head. "It's the same as it has been every day. 'The police are doing their best, but there are no leads.'," Frank answered.

Joe glanced at his brother and saw the fatigue that covered his face. Frank hadn't gotten any sleep since he heard about Nancy's disappearance and he was pretty sure Frank wouldn't really sleep until they found Nancy.

"I still think this is so bizarre," Joe said. "Why would someone kidnap Nancy and never contact us? I mean, she is a local celebrity, so wouldn't someone want to make a big payoff on her?"

"Maybe they don't realize who she is," Frank said, shrugging his shoulders. "But I still would feel a lot better if we just had a phone call telling us anything about her."

Joe sighed and sat down on the ottoman next to the sofa where Frank was sitting. "Have you found anything in her casefiles?" he asked.

Frank shook his head. "I have gone through these things at least a dozen times. According to everyone, she wasn't working on anything new. I've made calls with some of our contacts and as far as they know, no one that she has sent to jail has been released, paroled, or escaped."

Frank swept his arm, angrily, across the small coffee table. Papers flew everywhere, but neither brother made an attempt to catch them.

"Frank, we're going to find her," Joe said, softly.

"Are you telling me that to make me feel better or do you really believe that, Joe?" Frank asked.

"Maybe both," Joe admitted. "But hope and optimism is the only thing that we have right now."

Frank gave his brother a small smile. "I thought I was the overly optimistic one."

Joe flashed a small smile of his own. "Sometimes it's good to reverse roles every once in a while."

"Thanks, Joe," Frank said.

"For what?" Joe asked.

"Being here for me," Frank said. "I wouldn't be able to get through this if you weren't here with me."

"Ah," Joe said with a wave of a hand. "It's what brother's do. Besides, I'm sure I can think of a way for you to pay me back."

Frank chuckled at his brother. He knew that his brother didn't mean that. Joe would have dropped everything in order to help him...and Nancy. In fact, he was already skipping classes at NYU in order to help Frank. And he had always looked at Nancy as an older sister he never had.

Frank looked at the paper bag that Joe had brought in. "Tell me you have something to eat in there," he said.

Joe grinned. "I figured you were starving yourself." He grabbed the small bag and handed it to Frank. "It's just a burger and fries, but it's better than nothing."

Frank grabbed the burger out of the bag and tore into it hungrily. Joe was right–it really wasn't much, but it was more than he ate in the last twenty-four hours. He was almost finished with it when there was a knock at the door. Joe stopped Frank from getting up, and answered the door.

"Mr. Drew," Joe said, and opened the door further to let him in.

"Joe," Carson Drew said. He looked over at Frank as he entered the Hardys' hotel room. "Frank."

Frank balled up the wrapper from the burger and put it in the bag. "Mr. Drew."

Every time Frank saw Carson Drew, it seemed as if another piece of his soul had died with him. And today was no exception, except his eyes looked even more exhausted and desperate. And that's when it hit Frank–something else was wrong with Carson tonight. He wasn't there for progress on the case; he was there to tell them something.

"Did something happen, Mr. Drew?" Frank asked.

"Did they find Nancy?" Joe asked, hopeful.

Carson sadly shook his head and sat down on the sofa, next to Frank. It seemed as if he was trying to find the right words to say. Finally after a few moments, he spoke.

"I just got a call from Chief Hawkins. He's asked if I would be willing to call off the search for Nancy," Carson said, softly.

Frank exploded. "What! How can he even ask you that?"

"Yeah, I thought he and Nancy were extremely close!" Joe chimed in.

"They are," Carson assured them. "But the mayor is breathing down his neck. All of the squad has put all of their time into the search for Nancy, and it's costing the city too much money to keep the search going."

"But this is crazy!" Frank said. "They can't give up on her now. _We _can't give up on her now."

"There's no evidence to keep the search going. All of the officers have conceded that there's no chance in finding her alive, especially after a week," Carson said.

Frank looked at Carson in astonishment. "Do _you _believe that?" he asked.

Carson looked at Frank and shook his head. It was then that Frank saw the tiny bit of determination in Carson's eyes. "I won't give up hope on my daughter, Frank. Just as I know you and Joe won't, either. She's out there and we're going to bring her home–where she belongs. No matter how long it may take, I will find my daughter."

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_When will the darkness ever go away?_

_Will it ever go away?_

_How long have I been here?_

These were the questions that plagued Nancy Drew. But the way she figured, if she didn't have those three questions floating in her head at all times, she would go crazy. She was starving, dehydrated and in an incredible amount of pain. But most of the time, they kept her drugged so she forgot about everything else.

Even how long she had been there. She knew it had to have been at least a couple of days, but other than that, she had no clue. The kept her in a dark room the entire time. The only times when she had been aware of anything was when they came and got her and brought her to _him_.

And unless she was calculating wrong, they would come and get her soon.

Nancy supposed it was her fault mostly. She refused to give him the information he wanted. But she now had to admit that it was getting hard. The first few times, she stayed defiant and would only do her best to anger him. That's where most of the pain had come from–she had forgotten that he didn't like to be provoked.

Funny, considering the last time they had met, he almost killed her. _And this time he might actually succeed in doing just that_, she thought bitterly. She never even knew that he was out of prison. She had succeeded in putting him there five years ago, and the last time she heard he was supposed to be serving a life sentence.

_It was crazy how the world worked sometimes..._

Her fuzzy thoughts were interrupted by the door being unlocked and opened. They had now made sure the door remained locked since she had attempted to escape two times already. If they hadn't started to drug her, she was sure she would have tried it a few more times.

A bright light went across the room and Nancy had to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness. Two sets of hands grabbed her roughly from the floor and tied her hands in front of her with a cable tie. She was still unstable from the drugs, so they half-walked and half-dragged her down the long hallway. Soon, she was in another room, being shoved into a chair.

"You guys should really learn how to treat a lady," Nancy said, shooting a dark look at them.

"Save it," one of the men said.

Nancy's memory was now starting to clear, but she had a feeling it wouldn't be for long. It always seemed to clear when he wanted to talk.

Almost two minutes later, he walked into the room and smiled at her. Nancy returned his stare with an icy glare.

"Not too chipper today, I see," he said.

"It's pretty hard to be when you keep me drugged," Nancy said.

"I already explained that was your fault, Nancy," he said. "You shouldn't have tried to get away from me."

Nancy scoffed. "What? Am I supposed to stay here and tremble with fear the entire time? I thought you knew me better than that."

"I know more about you than you would feel comfortable with," he said. He sat down across from her. "Like right now, I know you want to go home. And I really want to do that for you, Nancy. But you've got to help me."

"We both know you have no intention of letting me go," Nancy said.

He chuckled. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

"How about you answer something for me?" Nancy asked.

He chuckled. "Why not amuse you?" he asked. "Ask away."

"How long have I been here?" she asked.

"A week," he answered.

Nancy looked at him with a mixture of shock and anger.

"Yep, I reckon a couple more days and you won't be able to stand any longer. Not many are able to live without much food. You've held out longer than I've given you credit for," he said.

"What can I say?" Nancy said. "I'm a fighter."

"Yes, you are," he agreed. "But you can't fight forever, Nancy. Sure you can speak the words, but if it came down to it, you wouldn't have the strength to fight."

He rose out of his chair and kneeled next to her. "Let me end this for you, Nancy. Just tell me what I want to know, and I promise, all of this will be over."

Nancy looked at him, confused. She did want this to be over. And she didn't want to tell him that he was right–there was no way she could fight. She was surprised she could really even function like a normal human being. All she had to do was tell him what he wanted and this would be over.

But who's to say he would actually let her go. He would just as soon kill her than let her get away and go to the police. He had to know that's what she would do. But what about her father? And Frank? They had to be worried sick about her, and she could finally give them closure. Even if that closure had to be the discovery of her body.

"All right," Nancy whispered.

He smiled at her, leaned closer to her, and listened as she told him what he wanted to know. When she was done, he nodded at his two lackeys and they grabbed her out of the chair.

"What are you going to do with me?" Nancy asked, fear ebbing into her voice.

He gave her a cold smile. "Rule number one, my dear Nancy–never trust a criminal." He looked at the two men holding Nancy. "Get rid of her," he ordered.

They both nodded and started to usher her out of the room. "You son of a bitch!" she screamed, as she struggled valiantly to get away.

He just started to laugh, but Nancy forced the men holding her to stop walking. She turned her head and looked at him.

"What if I lied to you?" she asked. "Did you ever think about that?"

"So what if you did?" he asked. "I'm at least getting rid of my biggest problem. And besides, I'm pretty sure you told one of your little friends or perhaps your fiancé. I wonder how long it would take to get them to crack?"

"No!" she screamed. "You leave them alone!"

"That all depends on you," he said. "How would they like to know that you were still able to force them to give their lives from the grave?"

He turned his back on her and stared out the window as they forced Nancy out of the room. "Oh, and guys? Make sure she's found. After all, we wouldn't want to keep her family in suspense for much longer."

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"Where are we going?" Nancy asked from the backseat.

"Don't worry about it," said the man who was sitting beside her. It was the only reason why she hadn't tried to escape from the car. The man was keeping a firm grip on her arm and a gun pointed in her side.

"I will worry about it," Nancy said. "After all, since I'm going to die, I might as well know where my final resting place will be."

"Haven't you ever heard of the element of surprise?" the man in the front seat asked.

"I've never been one to like surprises," Nancy said.

"Come on, Barry," the man beside her said. Apparently he was not the leader of the two. "Satisfy her curiosity."

"That's what got her in this position in the first place, Johnny," Barry said. "But since she wants to know so badly, we're taking to the River Heights Municipal Park. Boss wants you to be found, so what better place?"

_Well, I got my question answered_, Nancy thought. She turned her head to look out the window at the familiar sight of River Heights, her town she had called home for twenty-three years. Would this really be the last time that she would get to see all of this? Would she never drive these streets again? Would she never see her family and friends again?

A few minutes later, the car stopped at the park. Unfortunately for Nancy, no one was around so she had no chance of seeking help. And she still felt so crappy from the drugs that she couldn't fight her way out of it, either.

Johnny got out on his side and pulled Nancy along. For some reason, she had a tiny feeling that he didn't want to do this. _Maybe he had been pressured into this, _Nancy thought. Was there an actual way to get out of this?

The walked her to the edge of the woods and Johnny pushed her to the ground. With her hands still tied in front of her, she had no way to catch herself.

"Are you ready for this, little brother?" Barry asked.

Nancy looked back at them fearfully. What was going on here?

"I told you I could do it," he hissed, pointing the gun at Nancy.

"Don't let me down," Barry said. He started to walk back to the car.

"You're not staying here?" Johnny asked, nervously.

"It doesn't take two people to kill one broad," he said. "Just make sure you get it done. I'll keep the car running."

Nancy watched Barry as he made his way back to the car and then turned her desperate gaze onto Johnny. She had to reason with him, see if she could break him.

"You don't t really want to do this, do you, Johnny?" she asked, quietly.

"You don't understand, lady–I have to," he said, still nervous. "My brother doesn't think that I can do it."

"So you have to kill an innocent person just to prove your brother right?" Nancy asked, slightly disgusted. "Tell me, Johnny–do you have a family?"

Johnny nodded. "A wife–with a kid on the way."

_Yes! Something I can work with! _Nancy thought with some mild satisfaction.

"What if your wife were in my position?" Nancy asked. "Would you want someone to kill her just because they were ordered to?" Nancy lifted her bound hands up to show her engagement ring. "Look, Johnny...I have a fiancé who is worried sick about me. We were getting ready to finally start a life together. We're finally able to be happy."

Johnny started to shake his head and Nancy wondered if she was starting to lose him. "Please, Johnny–I'm begging you. Please let me have my life."

Johnny was about to say something when the blare of a car horn blasted through the still night. Johnny looked back towards where the car was parked and seemed to reach a decision.

"Get on your knees," he ordered.

Nancy felt a sharp stab of fear go through her as she rose on her knees, her back to him. _This is it, _she thought. _This is what it all comes down to._

The sound of gunshot could be heard echoing through the night.

**Sorry for any typos that may have escaped me! Please review!**


	2. Lost and Found

**Author's Note: Okay, so I've been told that I left the previous chapter off on an excruciating cliffie. Sorry about that...but you know it's what I do best. If there weren't cliffhangers, would you honestly come back and read it?**

**I thank everyone for the _wonderful _reviews. I was very excited about them and I am glad that you are as excited about this story as I am!**

**Just so you know, I will update as often as I can, but it is now a little hard because I just started my second year of college and I am taking a full load this summer. I do have several chapters written out for this already, but I am having to go back and edit and add bits and pieces here and there.**

**As for one thing I didn't explain at the beginning of the last chapter...B.D. Hawkins has now been promoted to Chief. So in my universe that means that Chief McGinnis has retired and has gone off to do whatever it is that he has always wanted to do.**

**Read and let me know what you think!**

Ryan Stewart was always up at four a.m. every day for his morning jog. He'd been jogging for five years now and had never missed a morning, even if it was storming.

_"That's what they made rain jackets for, after all,"_ he would always say to his friends. Besides, jogging to Ryan was right up on the list with breathing–it was something that he had to do.

Ryan had even bought a dog to join him on his morning jogs. Rusty, a Golden Retriever, had become his best friend and most trusted companion. Ryan never had to worry about running alone, because Rusty was usually up before him, eager to go.

Ryan loved the small town of River Heights–it was a town that he had called home all thirty-two years of his life. The only downside was that he lived in a neighborhood that wasn't ideal for running. So that's why he always drove the ten minutes it took to get to the River Heights Municipal Park. The running track was a mile long and very well lit. And the scenery wasn't bad to look at, either.

Ryan parked and got out of his late model Volkswaggen Passat, taking in a lungful of fresh morning air. He opened the back door and snapped a leash onto Rusty, who was wagging his tail excitedly.

"You ready, boy?" Ryan asked.

Rusty barked happily and bounded out of the car. Ryan laughed and allowed the dog to lead the way.

They stopped just before the start of the track so Ryan could do his normal warm-up routine. After ten minutes, they were soon on the track, oblivious to everything around them.

They jogged for about a half a mile when Rusty all of a sudden stopped, all senses on alert. He started to bark madly and Ryan stopped. He gave a jerk on Rusty's leash, urging him to run again, but Rusty held firm and continued to bark at the bushes.

Ryan looked at Rusty, confused. "What is it, boy?" he asked.

Rusty looked at back at Ryan, but then turned away and kept barking and looking at the bushes.

_It must be an animal_, Ryan thought, rolling his eyes. He pulled the leash again, a little harder. "Come on, that animal isn't going to hurt you."

Ryan started to move again, and Rusty reluctantly went with him. He had barely gotten ten feet when the dog broke free from his grasp and ran back to the bushes. Ryan let out a sigh of frustration and seeing as how he couldn't just leave his dog, made his way back to the bushes.

"Rusty, you have to learn that not all animals want to play with you," Ryan said as he made his way behind the bushes where Rusty was wagging his tail. Only now instead of barking, he was whimpering softly.

Even in the pale light of the streetlamp, Ryan could see what was causing his dog to behave the way he was. A woman with her hands tied in front of her, was lying on the ground, unmoving. But what freaked Ryan out the most was the fact that her long reddish-blonde hair was saturated in blood.

Ryan stumbled back and fell on the ground, hard. That and the pleading look from his dog quickly snapped him out of his momentary shock.

"It's okay, boy," Ryan said not sure if he was trying to calm Rusty or himself. Rusty looked at him, and stepped back as Ryan knelt down next to the woman.

He softly put his fingers to her neck and felt a very weak pulse. And it was at that moment when he knew who the woman was. Her face had been all over the news and on posted flyers throughout the town for the past week. He looked back to see where his car was parked and made a decision.

Though he hated to leave her there alone, he needed to get her some help before it was too late. He had no idea how long she had been out here, and he didn't want to take any chances, especially if he was able to save her.

He left Rusty there, knowing there was no way that the dog was going to leave. Rusty had always had a heart of gold, especially when it came to females. Ryan unlocked his car door and grabbed his cell phone. He dialed 911 and soon an operator answered.

"911–what is your emergency?" a woman's voice asked.

"I'm at River Heights Municipal Park. I found a woman who's been hurt!" Ryan said frantically.

"What do you mean hurt, sir?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, but she's bleeding from her head," Ryan said.

"Is she alive?" the woman asked.

"Yes!" Ryan said, tersely. "But barely. Look, I think it's the woman who's been missing!"

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Not absolutely," Ryan said. "Just get someone out here now!"

Ryan hung up and threw the phone back into the car. He didn't even bother to lock the car back up and he made his way back to Rusty. He wished there was more that he could do for the woman, but he also knew that he couldn't do anything to jeopardize the scene or risk hurting her any further. He had seen enough television crime shows to know that.

As he gazed down at her, anger flashed in his green eyes. _Why would anyone do this to her? What did she do to deserve this kind of abuse? Could someone really hate her this much? Or was this simply just a cheap thrill for some perverted bastard?_

Ryan sighed in frustration when he knew he couldn't answer his questions. But before he could even think about giving them any more thought, he heard the distant sounds of sirens approaching. By the time he got back to his car, an ambulance and two police cruisers were pulling into the park.

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Carson Drew hated the silence of his lonely house. It was at times like this when he realized how much light Nancy brought to his life. Her absence was making the house eerily still and he didn't like that.

This had actually been his first night back in the house. Since the day Nancy had disappeared, he had found reason after reason not to come home. He had spent every night in his office in downtown River Heights and not getting much sleep.

And that showed in his meetings with his clients. He had managed to put off court appearances and he was glad that he did. He never would have been able to represent his clients fairly and he had always prided himself in that. He never would be able to earn respect if he went into court and threw the cases away.

So, here he was, sitting in his study and staring at a picture of him and Nancy sitting on their patio, smiling. The picture was only a few months old, but it had become something he treasured, especially tonight.

_Or should I say this morning, _he thought ruefully. He glanced at the clock on his wall and saw that it was four-thirty in the morning. _Here's to another sleepless night._

He put the picture back down on his desk and rubbed a weary hand over his face. He could feel stubble on his face and figured that he should shave. He had barely gotten out of his study when the phone rang. He quickly forgot about shaving as he grabbed the phone before it could ring for the second time.

"Hello?" he said, anxiously.

"Carson?" a familiar voice asked.

"Chief, tell me you have something to tell me," Carson said.

Chief B.D. Hawkins let out a sigh and Carson felt a tight knot form in his stomach.

"What is it, B.D.?" Carson asked.

"We found her, Carson," Chief Hawkins said. "But it's not good. You better get down to the park right now."

Carson threw down the phone, grabbed his keys and was out the door in a matter of seconds.

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When Carson got to the park, he was met with a spectacle. Police cruisers were everywhere, along with an ambulance, fire truck, and more media vans than he dared to count. He figured he broke at least fifty traffic laws to get to the park, but he didn't care about that. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to Nancy, even something as petty as a speed limit.

As soon as Carson was out of his car, he was instantly bombarded by the throngs of reporters, all jamming cameras and microphones in front of his face. He waved them away and muttered a few "no comments" before he was able to break free. He spotted Chief Hawkins speaking to a couple of his officers and made his way over.

"Carson!" B.D. called out. He finished what he was doing with the officers and met Carson. He nodded his head towards the reporters. "I'm sorry about them. They started to gather not two minutes after I got the call."

Carson shook his head. He didn't care about that; all he wanted was to know what had happened to Nancy. "Where is she?"

"They're loading her onto the gurney right now," B.D. said. He moved so Carson could see that two paramedics were indeed loading Nancy up. He pushed past B.D. and made his way over.

"Sir–" one of the paramedics began but B.D. shook his head.

"It's okay," he said. "He's the father."

The paramedic nodded and reluctantly moved away so Carson could see his daughter. The site of Nancy before him made a sob catch up in his throat. He had never seen her like this–bruises covered her face and she had a busted lip. And then he saw the brownish-red in her golden hair and felt cold all over. It was blood–blood covered her beautiful, long hair.

He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. "Everything will be okay, sweetheart," he whispered. He then looked at the paramedics. "Will she be okay?"

"It doesn't look good," the second paramedic said, sadly. "We'll know more once we get her to the hospital."

Carson nodded as he felt a tear run down his cheek. He stubbornly wiped it away and let the paramedics take her. He watched as they loaded her into the cab of the ambulance and refused to look away until they were out of view. He then turned his attention to Chief Hawkins, who had been looking at him, concerned.

"Who found her?" Carson asked.

"A jogger–actually, it was his dog," B.D. answered. Before he could say anything there was a commotion near the reporters and they looked up to see Frank and Joe Hardy approaching them. Carson had called them at their hotel on his way to the park.

"Where is she?" Frank asked, breathless.

"She's on her way to the hospital," Carson answered.

"How is she?" Frank asked, fearing the answer.

"She's still alive, but they say it doesn't look too good," Carson said. "We should know more by the time we get to the hospital."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Frank asked.

Carson shook his head. "I want to talk to the person who found her."

Frank wanted to protest, but thought better against it. After all, Carson was having a harder time right now than he was and he didn't want to do anything to stress him out any further.

"Martinez!" B.D. called out.

A young officer with black hair looked up and nodded. He soon joined the group with another man they didn't recognize.

"Carson Drew, this is Ryan Stewart," B.D. said. "He's the one that made the call to us."

Carson felt tears form again but he pushed them back. He was now staring at the man who had possibly saved his daughter's life. "Mr. Stewart, I don't know how I can thank you," he said, holding out a hand.

The other man grasped it and shook it firmly. "I'm only glad that I was able to help," he said. "Actually, I'm glad that my dog was able to find her. I'm always getting onto him about being so nosy, but I guess this time it actually came in handy."

"You have no idea how much," Carson said.

Frank held out his own hand to Ryan. "That goes double for me," he said.

"I only hope that she can pull through," Ryan said.

Carson gave a faint smile. "Don't worry–my daughter can pull through anything."

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**Yay! No cliffie...or not a bad one I should say!**

**Please review!**


	3. Remorse

**Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews. I like it that you are voicing your concerns and are coming up with your own ideas about what could happen next. Keep it up!**

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Johnny Allen was a very nervous man, for a number of reasons. Depending on who you asked, he had just done a very bad thing. Something that in one way or another, was going to land him in some very hot water.

He had a multitude of feelings going through his mind right now–anger, fear, nervousness, anxiety, and hatred. And they were all fighting for the top spot. Now only if he could stop his body from shaking so much. But that wasn't easy considering it wasn't even cold outside; it was just complete nerves that were causing his body to behave this way.

Barry sensed his brother's uneasiness and looked over at him. "Are you okay, Johnny?"

Johnny managed to stop shaking long enough to glare at Barry. "How can you ask me that? I just killed a woman who begged for her life."

Barry let out a chuckle. "It's nothing to cry home about, Johnny," he said. "I remember it bothered me on my first kill, too. But, now...I find the screams as some sort of an unexplainable high."

Johnny looked at his brother, his face a mixture of fear and astonishment. How could he have not known what a monster his brother truly was? Had he always been like this? Was he on his way to become his brother?

_No!_ the reasonable voice in his head told him. _You are nowhere near what he is!_

Barry saw his brother's expression and tsked. "Come on, brother. Dr. Stan said you should never keep your feelings bottled up."

Johnny rolled his eyes and for the first time that night he felt a smile tug on his lips. "Dr. Stan was a crackpot-Dr. Phil-wannabe hoping that someday Oprah was going to discover him as well."

Barry laughed. "I don't see how Mom thought he would be able to help us."

"She didn't want us to become like Dad," Johnny said.

There was silence between the brothers as they each thought back to their father. He had been nothing but a lowlife alcoholic who got his kicks by beating them on a daily basis. To say they were happy when he was killed in a traffic accident a few years back, would be an understatement.

The silence remained for a few more moments until Johnny finally broke it. "Why do you do this, Barry?"

"Do what?" Barry asked, glancing over at his brother.

"You know what," Johnny said, a little irritated.

Barry turned his eyes back to the road and let out a sigh. "The pay doesn't suck. Besides, no one wants to give a high school dropout a chance."

"So you make up for that by killing innocent people?" Johnny asked.

"Who says they _are _innocent?" Barry asked

"You can't honestly tell me that girl tonight wasn't innocent," Johnny said.

"Did you even know who that girl was?" Barry asked.

Johnny shook his head. "Should I?"

Barry nodded his head. "That's right–you refuse to watch the news or pick up a newspaper."

"There are too many bad things happening in the world," Johnny argued. "Why should I remind myself of that everyday?"

"Well, let me offer my congratulations to you, Johnny-boy," Barry said, smiling at his brother. "You just offed one of River Heights's most beloved citizens."

"What?" Johnny asked.

"Nancy Drew–a.k.a the-greatest-girl-detective-the-world-has-ever-known," Barry said, as if he was an anchor on a morning TV show. "But on the plus side, you just did criminals everywhere a great justice. In fact, you may have just committed the Holy Grail of all murders."

Johnny was confused as Barry pulled up in front of his house. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Barry put the car in "PARK" and turned to face his brother. "You have no idea how many people have dreamed of getting their hands on her. You're going to be a legend, idolized for years to come."

Johnny couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't want to be known as the man who had killed Nancy Drew. So, what had he just done?

"So, tell me, bother–how does it feel to know you hold that much power?" Barry asked and clapped his brother on the back. "Turn on the news, Johnny–you're about to be famous."

Johnny opened the car door and got out. Before he could walk too far away, Barry called out to him. "Tell Livvie and the girls I said hi."

Johnny heard Barry chuckle and drive off. He watched as the car's taillights faded into the distance.

He unlocked the door to his house and was instantly greeted by darkness. The only light he could make out was the faint light emerging from the kitchen. He looked at the wall clock hanging above the microwave and saw that it was nearly midnight.

Inwardly, he was glad that Livvie and the girls were asleep. He didn't think he could face anyone at the moment, especially not Livvie. He needed time to collect his thoughts and to figure out what he was going to do next.

Johnny tiptoed quietly throughout the house and stopped in front of the room that his two daughters, Lyndsey and Abby, shared. He opened the door to see the two of them sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the world around them.

His heart ached as he watched the two of them sleep, clutching to their matching teddy bears. Born five years ago, the twins were his life. _How could you do it, Johnny?_ the voice that had been bothering him all night, asked. _You may have robbed that poor woman of ever experiencing the joy of her own family. Why couldn't you just let her go?_

Johnny pushed the voice away, and kissed each of the girls on the forehead. He then quietly slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He opened the door to his own bedroom, being careful not to wake Livvie. He slipped into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

He looked down at his hands to see that they were covered in blood. Funny, he hadn't noticed that before. _If only you could wash the whole night away, right Johnny?_ the voice piped up again.

_Why can't you just leave me alone? _Johnny asked the voice.

_Why couldn't you just walk away? _the voice countered.

Johnny grabbed the bar of soap and started to scrub his body vigorously until his skin felt as if it was raw. _Do you honestly think you can just scrub everything away? _the voice taunted him.

_I have to do something! _Johnny thought, wildly. _Why can't you just go away? I didn't shoot her!_

_Maybe not, _the voice replied. _But that knock on her head isn't doing her any good._

_But I didn't kill her! _Johnny protested.

_How do you know? Is it just because you say you didn't? _the voice asked. _Go ahead, wash her blood off your hands, Johnny. Make it appear as if nothing happened tonight._

_What am I supposed to do? _Johnny demanded as he stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and stood in front of the mirror.

_You know what you need to do_, the voice said gently. _Do it for Livvie and the girls. Don't let the girls grow up, knowing that their father was a monster._

Johnny put on some boxers and a T-shirt and slipped into bed beside Livvie. _The voice is right, _he thought. _I have to tell them what I've done._

He felt Livvie shift beside him. "You're home late. Is everything okay?" she asked, softly.

Johnny looked at his wife and gave her a soft kiss. "It will be," he said.

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"Are you here for Nancy Drew?"

Carson, Frank, and Joe looked up as a tall man, with light brown hair and wearing a lab coat approached them.

Carson nodded and stood up. He held out his hand to the man. "I'm her father–Carson Drew."

The other man grabbed his hand and shook it warmly. "I'm Dr. Lionel Troy."

"Dr. Troy, how is my daughter?" Carson asked.

Dr. Troy glanced at the brothers and Carson nodded his head. "It's okay. This is her fiancé," he said, pointing to Frank. "Frank Hardy and his brother, Joe."

Dr. Troy nodded and indicated that they should sit down. Carson immediately felt a stab of fear. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.

Dr. Troy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Your daughter is suffering from a severe concussion and she's lost a great amount of blood. She also has a couple of cracked ribs, numerous cuts and bruises, and is also suffering from severe dehydration."

"But what happened to her?" Frank asked.

"From what we can gather, we figure that she was hit with a blunt instrument. We also estimate that she had been out there for a few hours before she was found, because of the amount of blood loss. We believe that whoever hit her meant to kill her and as a result of that, she's now in a coma," Dr. Troy explained, carefully.

"Coma?" Carson asked, shocked. "How long will it last?"

"We think she _will_ eventually wake up, but the thing you must understand with comas is that there is no way to predict how long they may last," Dr. Troy explained. "They can last anywhere from hours, days, weeks, months, or even years."

"But the sooner she wakes up, the better, right?" Joe asked, voicing everyone's concerns.

Dr. Troy nodded soberly. "That's what we're hoping for. But from everything that I've heard about Nancy, I have no doubt that she'll pull through it."

"Can we see her?" Carson asked.

Dr. Troy hesitated, but when he saw the desperate looks he was receiving from Frank and Carson, he relented. "One at a time and only for ten minutes. She needs to rest and build her strength back up. She's in the ICU ward in room number two."

Carson looked at Frank and Frank nodded at him. "You go ahead. She needs to hear your voice."

Carson flashed him a grateful smile and stepped onto the elevator. The brothers watched as the numbers lit up above the elevator.

Frank ran his hands over his tired face and let out a long breath Joe figured he had been holding since they got the phone call about Nancy.

Joe leaned back in his own seat and glanced at his brother. "How are you doing, Frank?" he asked.

Frank looked at Joe. He seemed to really think about that question before he answered. "Scared."

That surprised Joe and it must have shown all over his face.

"I know I should say that I'm happy," Frank said. "And don't get me wrong, Joe. I am extremely happy to have her back, but..." his voice trailed off.

"But what?" Joe prodded, gently.

"I get this cold feeling all over. A part of me is saying that it's going to get worse before it gets better," Frank explained.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, Frank–you have got to quit being so damn pessimistic," Joe said.

"I'm not being pessimistic, I'm being reasonable," Frank said. "Why fill myself with false hope? I've done that before with Nancy and was brought down quicker than a ton of bricks."

"But it turned out well in the end," Joe pointed out.

Frank nodded. "All with luck, though. And I get the feeling that we've had too many lucky situations."

"Again with the pessimism," Joe said, rolling his eyes. "You know, I could come up with a drinking game with this. Every time you think the worst about something, I take a shot."

Frank rolled his own eyes in response.

"You know, research shows that optimists live longer than pessimists," Joe said.

"What's your point?" Frank asked, annoyed.

"Do you want to be cremated or buried six feet under?" Joe asked.

Frank got up from his chair and grabbed a magazine. He sat down a few chairs from Joe and flipped through it in frustration.

A few minutes later, the elevator doors opened and Carson emerged. Frank put down his magazine and stood up. He nodded at Frank and Frank didn't waste any time. He got in the elevator and before he reached Nancy's floor, he made a detour to the gift/florist shop. There, he bought a huge bouquet of white daisies. He got back into the elevator and rode it the remaining three floors to the ICU ward.

He smiled at the desk nurse and made his way to Nancy's door. He quietly pushed the door open and slipped inside. The only light in the room was that of the sunlight filtering through the blinds. He put down the vase of flowers on the table beside Nancy's bed and finally got his first glimpse of the woman he hadn't seen in a week.

He felt his heart ache. He had seen her with a few cuts and bruises, and even once, with a broken leg–but this–this was unlike anything that he had ever seen.

Nancy's head was covered with gauze and she had two IV's in her arm. Frank breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw that she was at least breathing on her own.

As he listened to the rhythmic sound of the heart monitor, it was right then when he realized how grave her situation was. _Who could have done such a thing to such a strong, beautiful woman?_

Frank sat down in the chair beside the bed and grabbed Nancy's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm here, baby," he whispered softly and gave her hand a kiss. "I'm so sorry that I wasn't there to stop this. I promise you, I will never leave you again."

Frank could feel tears stinging the back of his eyelids and fought them back. "You've got to wake up for me. We have a wedding to plan and you know I can't do it. We have a future ahead of us–a home, kids. I want your face to be the last I see every night. I want to grow old with you, Nancy Drew."

Frank chuckled as another thought came to him. "Besides, I need you around to help keep Joe in line."

He glanced up as a nurse opened the door and peeked her head in. "I'm sorry, sir. But she really needs to get her rest."

Frank nodded at he nurse and she gave him a small smile. She closed the door and he turned back to Nancy.

"Don't worry–I'll be back as soon as I can," he said. He stood up and kissed her softly on the forehead. "I love you," he whispered.

Before Frank opened the door, he turned for one last look at Nancy. "I'm going to find the person that did this to you, Nan. Even if it takes my last breath. I won't rest until this bastard is brought to justice."

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**Author's note: Okay, as you can see, Nancy was not shot. I didn't really feel comfortable with shooting her, and I kind of wanted Johnny to have something of a heart, even though he did hurt her. But Johnny is also filled with remorse for what he has done because he never wanted to do that.**

**I do have quite a bit of the story already written and I am writing when I have available opportunities, so I am trying to update as often as possible.**

**Please review!**


	4. I Know Something

**Stay tuned for the Author's Note at the end of the chapter!**

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When Frank got back to the waiting room, he saw that Joe was sitting alone.

"Where's Carson?" Frank asked, looking around.

"He said he needed to get back to the office and give Hannah a call," Joe answered, putting down a sporting magazine he was reading. "I think he's just feeling bad about not being able to do anything for Nancy."

Frank sighed. "He's not alone in that department," he said.

Joe stood up, rubbing his stomach. "Let's go get something to eat."

"Joe, I really don't want–" Frank began, but Joe interrupted him.

"Like you said, Frank–there's nothing you can do for her," Joe said. "Besides, you need to get something to eat."

Frank knew that Joe was right, but he didn't want to leave Nancy alone. "What if she wakes up and we're not here?"

Joe grabbed Frank's arm. "Well, I'm sure church bells will ring, the media will be alerted, and a parade will be thrown if she does."

Frank shot Joe a look, but allowed him to lead him out of the hospital and across the street to Al's Diner. Inside, the place was packed with people eating before they went off to work, but luckily, they found a vacated booth near the back. Just as they sat down, a young blond-haired, blue-eyed waitress was at the table, pen and pad poised.

"What can I get for you?" she asked in a chirpy voice.

Joe flashed a dazzling smile at her. "What do you recommend," he looked at her name tag. "Miranda?"

Miranda giggled. "Oh, well, there's Al's Delight–eggs, pancakes, sausage, French toast, and bacon."

Joe flashed her another smile. "That's what I'll have then–with orange juice."

"Okay," Miranda said, writing it down. She then turned to Frank. "And what about you?"

"Just bacon and eggs with a coffee," Frank said, closing his menu.

"All right," Miranda said. She wrote down the order, collected the menus, and flashed a smile of her own. "I'll be right back."

"And we'll be right here, waiting for you," Joe said.

Miranda gave him a small wave and took off. When Joe turned back to look at Frank, he was met by an amused expression.

"What?" Joe asked.

"You think you laid it on a little thick there?" Frank asked.

"I don't think Miranda minded it so much," Joe said.

"But I'm sure Vanessa would," Frank said.

"But that's the beauty of our relationship–Vanessa's learned not to take me seriously," Joe said.

"Neither does anyone else," Frank said, chuckling.

Before Joe could reply, Miranda came back with their drinks. She set them on the table and then went to check on her other tables. The brothers remained silent until Miranda came back ten minutes later with their food.

Frank nearly choked when he saw Joe's plate. "Think you got enough on your plate?" he asked.

Joe grinned at his brother. "See, Frank–this is what flirting will get you."

Frank just chuckled and started to eat his food, while Joe chowed down on his own. Pretty soon, Frank started to pick at his food, causing Joe to take notice.

"What's bothering you?" Joe asked.

Frank put down his fork and looked at Joe. "Something about this whole thing is bothering me."

"Such as?" Joe asked.

Frank leaned forward to speak so the other patrons wouldn't overhear. "Why keep Nancy for a week and then just dump her in the park?"

Joe thought for a minute. "Maybe they wanted something from her–like information."

"And knowing Nancy, she wouldn't give it to them," Frank said.

"But I'm thinking eventually she did, since they let her go," Joe said.

"And I'm betting she didn't give it up willingly, either," Frank said. "And from what the doctor was saying, it's apparent they were starving her."

"Among other things," Joe said. "He also said she has a couple of cracked ribs. What did she look like when you saw her?"

"Like she got the hell beat out of her constantly," Frank said coldly, making fists. "They were using force to get what they wanted."

"And she refused to back down," Joe said.

"Until yesterday," Frank guessed.

"What makes you say that?" Joe asked.

"It's all guesswork, but I'm thinking they threatened her with more," Frank said. "You know how strong-willed Nancy is. But what is the one thing that can break her?"

Joe didn't hesitate. "Her friends and family."

Frank nodded. "Right. She would never risk the lives of the ones she loves. She would give up hers first."

"Looks like that was going to happen yesterday," Joe said, quietly.

"Why do you say that?" Frank asked.

"Whoever dumped her in the park wasn't expecting her to live," Joe said.

That statement caused shock waves to go through Frank. In his mind, he was saying the same thing, but to hear it out loud scared him to death. Before he could think of a way to respond, his cell phone rang.

"Frank Hardy," he answered.

There was silence on the other end.

"Frank Hardy," he repeated. He was still met by silence. Just as he was about to hang up, he heard a voice.

"Mr. Hardy?" asked a hushed voice.

"Yes. Who is this?" Frank asked.

Joe looked at him, but Frank just shrugged his shoulders.

"My name is Johnny. I have some information about your fiancée."

Frank gripped the phone tightly. "What kind of information?"

"I'd rather talk in person. Meet me at the River Heights Marina at midnight–alone," he said.

"I'll only meet with you if my brother can come along," Frank said.

He didn't hear any response and he was afraid for a second that Johnny had hung up.

"Fine–but no one else," Johnny said finally.

"How will I find you?" Frank asked.

"Don't worry about that. I'll find _you_," Johnny said and Frank soon heard the humming of the dial tone.

Frank stared at his phone in confusion.

"Who was it?" Joe demanded.

"Some guy who claims to have information about what happened to Nancy," Frank answered.

"What?" Joe asked, his food momentarily forgotten. "What did he say?"

"That's just it–he didn't want to say anything over the phone. He wants to meet at the River Heights Marina at midnight," Frank explained.

Joe looked skeptical. "This could be a trap, you know."

Frank nodded. "I do know that. But I can't risk not knowing what happened to Nancy."

"So who do you think it was?" Joe asked. "Someone with a guilty conscience or just a nervous witness?"

Frank shrugged. "He said his name was Johnny, but he could be lying. I guess we'll just have to wait and see tonight. But we need to stay on our toes in case this _does _turn out to be a trap."

Joe smiled at his brother as Miranda dropped off their check. "That's the only way the Hardys stay."

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_What if she lied to you?_

That was the one question that kept running through his mind, since he had gotten rid of Nancy. Barry had asked him that very thing as they were escorting her out. He had just shrugged off the question and never gave it any more thought.

His mother had always warned him about jumping the gun, but he had never listened to her, especially when it mattered. And now he was kicking himself for his youthful arrogance. Instead, he had let pride cloud his judgment and now Nancy Drew was dead.

He could only hope that she had told him the truth. But even he knew that was highly unlikely. A person never forgets the one who tried to kill them several times–and Nancy Drew was no exception.

Of course, he should be the one that's angry. After all, she had sent him to prison for the past five years of his life. Being in a U.S. prison is bad enough, but a foreign prison...it's not something you write home about.

But at least he could say he knew how to take care of himself. In fact, after that first _misunderstanding_, no one bothered him until his release. And all that alone time gave him plenty of time to think about her–the woman who had ruined his life.

It still sickened him to this day to know that a _teenage detective_ had managed to put him away. Especially when he had been able to elude the cops for so long. He would even go so far as saying that he had been captivated by her when he first saw her. That was before he had known how much trouble she would cause him.

So he had made it his mission in prison to keep up with her. He had managed to get his hands on every newspaper clipping she appeared in and they were now tucked away safely in a box. It was how he knew she graduated as an honor student from Wilder University with a Journalism degree. It was how he knew she was the top investigative reporter for the _Chicago Tribune_. And it was how he knew she had dumped Ned Nickerson along the way and was now engaged to Frank Hardy, a homicide detective for the Chicago Police Department.

He could probably say he knew her better than she ever knew herself.

So why did he rob himself of the very thing that would bring him the greatest pleasure? Why did he let some thug he hired murder the woman who was his motive for living? Was he really starting to lose his steam?

_It was all for the plan_, he told himself, firmly. _If you were caught with her blood on your hands, all of your careful planning would have been for nothing._

_Still, it would have been nice to torment Nancy for a little while longer..._

It had surprised him that she had given up so easily, even though she had lasted for a week. He had wanted to break her even further, until she begged him for death. But sadly, it just wasn't meant to be.

He snapped away from his thoughts as he heard footsteps echoing in the corridor. He looked up to see Barry appear in the door way, clutching a newspaper with a grim expression on his face.

"Did everything go well last night?" he asked.

Barry hesitated. "Not exactly," he said reluctantly.

His voice grew cold. "What do you mean?"

Barry licked his lips nervously and then slid the paper across the desk. The man picked it up and read the headline. "Missing Woman Found Alive."

"What?" he exploded. "How hard is it to kill a defenseless woman?"

"Johnny told me–" Barry began.

"Johnny!" he fumed. "I thought I made it clear I wanted _you _to do the job!"

"I–I was. But Johnny needs the experience," Barry protested.

"Johnny needs a lot more than experience," he said, as he perused through the article. "Why doesn't this say she was shot? I gave you strict instructions and I expect them to be followed for the amount that I'm paying you."

"I heard a gunshot. Johnny swore to me that he did it," Barry said.

He looked up at Barry. "It seems to me that Johnny isn't being entirely honest with you."

"I'll talk to Johnny," Barry said, backing out of the office.

"I'm afraid you'll do more than that, Barry," he said, quietly.

Barry looked at him, dreading what he was about to hear.

He flashed a chilling smile at Barry. "Your brother has become a liability. We can't risk him talking to the cops, not with the plans so close. You either deal with him or I will."

Barry swallowed hard and walked towards the door.

"And, Barry–" Barry turned around. "Make sure it's done right. Or your mother will be planning two funerals."

He chuckled as Barry hurried out of his office. He then grabbed a pair of scissors out of his desk and began to clip the newest newspaper clipping.

_Looks like the collection will keep on growing, after all..._

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**Author's Note: And there's the latest chapter. I really liked the responses to the last chapter. It was good to know that you feel sorry for Johnny, because I did too as I was writing the character. He is merely a victim of circumstance and he only wants to do good in his brother's eyes.**

**I am glad that you liked Joe's humor, too. He knows that the situation is dire but that is not going to stop him from being his normal self.**

**Let me know what you think!**


	5. Blood Brothers

**Author's Note: Okay, let me first say I am sorry, sorry, sorry for not updating any sooner. I have one thing that all of you can blame it on: The release of _Supernatural_ Season One on DVD this past Tuesday. I have spent the last five days with my eyes completely glued to my television screen!**

**Well, now on to the story!**

Barry Allen didn't know if he was feeling angry, sad, or betrayed. He was angry because he was allowing himself to be intimidated by a man he didn't know that well. He was sad because he was now responsible for having to kill his baby brother. And he felt betrayed that Johnny hadn't been honest with him the night before.

Right now all of these feelings were waging a war inside of him and he wasn't sure which one would come out the victor in the end.

He had a feeling that his brother wouldn't come through with killing Nancy Drew, but Johnny deserved that chance to prove himself. Johnny had always been the sensitive one when they were growing up, and Barry had always been there defending him. Johnny was always the one to let his emotions get the better of him, while Barry always kept his emotions in check.

And now Johnny's emotions were the very thing that was going to get him killed.

_Why couldn't you just tell me, Johnny? I would have made it easier for you..._

Barry had called his brother to go out tonight, but Johnny had blown him off, anxiously saying he had other plans. Barry had a feeling what those plans would be, but he wanted to be sure. He wanted to justify himself in ending his brother's life; he did not want his brother to die in vain.

Not having anything else to do, Barry remained parked down the road from his brother's house, but close enough where he could keep an eye on him. He kept himself occupied with a crossword puzzle and waited for his brother to come out.

At eleven-fifteen that night, the waiting finally ended. Johnny came out of the house, sending cautious looks all around. Barry watched as he quickly made his way to the car and got in. He slumped down in his seat so Johnny wouldn't see him, and waited until he was at the end of the road before he began to follow, careful to stay out of his brother's sight.

He wasn't sure where Johnny was going until he turned on Oceanside Drive. His guess turned out to be correct when he saw Johnny pull up to the River Heights Marina. Barry killed his lights and didn't park until he saw Johnny emerge from his car and start walking down the pier.

Barry slowly coasted into a parking space. He killed the engine and reached over into the glove compartment and pulled out a 9mm Smith & Wesson. After making sure there were bullets inside, he slipped it into the waistband of his pants. He then got out of the car and quietly shut the door.

He saw that Johnny was standing at the very end of the pier, staring out into the calm waters. Barry made as little noise as possible as he approached his brother.

Johnny spoke without turning around. "You're early."

"Early for what?" Barry asked.

Johnny jumped, startled, and turned around, surprised to see his brother standing behind him. "Barry! What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing, baby brother," Barry said.

"I'm meeting someone," Johnny said, nervously.

"In the middle of the night?" Barry asked. "It makes me think you're up to something."

"How did you know I was out here?" Johnny asked. "Were you following me?"

Barry shrugged. "I had to know what you were up to."

Johnny shook his head and looked back out into the water. "I can't do it, Barry."

"Can't do what?" Barry asked.

"I'm not as cool and calm as you are," Johnny said, ignoring the question. "I can't keep this a secret. I have to let them know I killed an innocent woman."

"You didn't kill anyone, Johnny," Barry said. "We both know that."

"How did you know that?" Johnny asked, fearfully.

Barry chuckled. "I do pay attention to the news, Johnny."

Johnny whipped back around to stare at his brother. "I have to!" he cried. "It's eating me up inside and I don't know how much longer I can keep quiet about it. I did something terrible and I need to face the consequences!"

"You didn't kill her," Barry repeated.

"But I came damn close!" Johnny said. "I can't do it! I can't do this to Livvie and the girls!"

"I'm not going to let you tell anyone," Barry said. He pulled out the gun and pointed it at Johnny's chest.

Johnny's eyes went as wide as saucers. "Barry! What are you doing?"

"I can't let you tell anyone," Barry said. "You'll ruin everything."

"So you're wiling to kill me?" Johnny asked.

Barry shook his head. "All you had to do was tell me you couldn't do it, Johnny! I could have helped you! But you had to lie and he found out! Don't you understand? I have to do this, or he will!"

"You don't have to listen to him, Barry," Johnny said, desperation in his voice. "He doesn't control you!"

"I can't protect you any longer, little brother," Barry said, sadly. "I hope you can forgive me."

Before Johnny had time to react, Barry pulled the trigger. He watched as Johnny's body jerked from the impact of the bullet. Johnny brought a hand to his chest and looked at the blood on his hand, not sure if his brother had shot him or not. He could taste the bitter blood in his mouth and looked at his brother with a hurt expression.

"Why?" he croaked, before he fell onto the pier with a thud.

Barry brought down his hand and stared at Johnny's still form. He felt tears stinging his eyes. "What have I done?" he asked, a sob escaping from his lips. He looked around to make sure no one had seen him and then threw the gun into the very waters that Johnny had just found solace in.

He looked at his watch to see it was eleven-thirty. His work still wasn't done; he needed to see who his brother was meeting.

Barry sent one last look at his brother, and then took off down the pier.

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Frank pulled up at the River Heights Marina at eleven forty-five. He and Joe had decided to get there early to check things out and to make sure that they weren't walking into a trap.

"Looks like we weren't the only ones who decided to get here early," Joe commented from the passenger seat.

Frank looked at the car that Joe was looking at. It was a late-model car that was parked a few spaces down from them. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not," he said.

"It may not even belong to this guy that we're meeting," Joe pointed out.

"Who else would be dumb enough to come out here so late?" Frank asked.

Joe looked at his brother. "You mean, besides us?" he asked. "An avid fisherman?"

"What find of fish are you expecting to catch this late at night?" Frank asked, slightly annoyed.

"The sleeping kind," Joe said.

Frank rolled his eyes and got out of the car. Joe followed suit and they were soon walking along the pier, clutching flashlights, the beams bouncing all around them. They were keeping their eyes open for anything that looked remotely suspicious.

"I don't see anyone out here," Frank whispered.

"Not to mention, any places for someone to hide," Joe whispered back.

They continued to walk along the pier, the chirping of the crickets and ripple of the water, the only noises that could be heard. As they were approaching the end of the pier, Joe stopped causing Frank to run into him.

"What is your problem, Joe?" Frank whispered fiercely.

"I don't think we're alone out here," Joe said, Joe whispered back.

"What are you talking about?" Frank asked.

Joe pointed ahead and Frank aimed his flashlight to where Joe was indicating. He immediately saw what had made his brother stop. Lying at the end of the pier was a body. The brothers slowly approached, in case it was just a ruse to spring a trap on them. The beam of their flashlights quickly assured them that was not the case.

It was a man lying face down, surrounded by a pool of blood. Joe knelt down beside the man and felt for a pulse. He looked back up at Frank and shook his head.

"Do you think this was the guy we were supposed to meet?" Joe asked, standing back up.

"That would be my guess," Frank said.

"There's only one way to find out. Hand me a pair of gloves, Frank," Joe said.

"What makes you think I have gloves?" Frank demanded.

Joe looked at Frank. "You're a cop, Frank. Gloves are as important to you as underwear."

Frank sighed, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. He ignored Joe's smirk and handed them to him. Joe quickly slipped them on and reached into the guy's back pocket.

"Joe, what are you doing?" Frank demanded.

"You want to know if this is our mystery guy, don't you?" Joe asked.

Frank was about to object when he thought better of it. He _was _curious as to who this man was. "Fine! Just hurry up!" He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911, sending furtive glances all around.

Joe smiled and pulled out the guy's wallet. He quickly flipped it open and glanced at the driver's license. "Johnny Allen," he said as Frank hung up the phone.

"First name matches," Frank said.

Joe closed the wallet and slipped it back into the man's pocket. "Someone stopped him before he could talk to us."

Frank nodded. "Which makes me think this guy was going to tell us something that would help us," he said.

"They wanted him to take his information to the one place no one would hear it," Joe said, pulling off the gloves.

Frank nodded as sirens pierced through the quiet night. "To the grave."

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**Well, the success of another chapter! As always, I value your opinions, so let me know what you think! And I will try not to wait so long for another update!**


	6. Trouble on the Pier

**Thanks for all the reviews! I saw that quite a bot of you hated that Johhny had to die and you were glad that he had a heart. I wanted the relationship of Barry and Johnny to be close and I wanted Barry to have remorse for what he did to his brother.**

**I know this chapter isn't too long, but at least it's an update, right? Oh, and if you haven't checked out my last couple of updates, please do so before you continue with this chapter!**

**Let me know what you think...**

"Why do the two of you always seem to be in the thick of things?" Chief Hawkins asked Frank and Joe, who were standing away from the activity of the pier.

"Just lucky, I guess," Joe commented.

"Or unlucky," Frank said. "I guess it depends on how you look at it."

Chief Hawkins watched as his officers secured the area and then turned back to the brothers. "Well, I know you weren't fishing, so what were the two of you doing out here so late?"

"Again, it depends on your definition," Frank said. "We were supposed to meet someone."

"Who?" Hawkins asked.

Frank and Joe glanced down at the body on the pier. "You're looking at him," Joe said.

"Who was he?" Hawkins asked, looking at the body himself.

"We're not entirely sure," Frank answered, slowly.

"Meaning?" Chief Hawkins asked.

Frank sighed. "Someone called me earlier and said they had information about what happened to Nancy. They would only share it in person and he asked us to meet him here at midnight," he explained.

"All he told Frank was that his name was Johnny. We looked at his driver's license and saw that his name was Johnny Allen," Joe said, picking up where Frank left off.

The boys saw Chief Hawkins turn pink as anger flushed his cheeks. "You mean you disturbed evidence," he said.

"No," Joe said, quickly. "Frank gave me a pair of gloves and I retrieved the wallet. All I did was check the guy's name and then I put the wallet back in his pocket."

Hawkins shook his head. "You boys have been doing this for years. You should know better than that, especially since you're a homicide detective, Frank."

"I'm sorry, Chief—I guess we weren't thinking too clearly," Frank said. "But he had been our only lead so far and I needed to know."

Chief Hawkins sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "No one needs to know about this, I guess. But you boys better use better judgment next time, no matter how personal the case is."

Frank and Joe nodded and watched as the crime scene techs began to collect evidence and take photos. Their attention was diverted as they saw the coroner can pull up.

"So what do you think happened?" Hawkins asked, causing the boys to look at him again.

Frank shrugged. "Someone found out he was going to talk and decided they didn't want to give him the chance."

"So you think he really knew something?" Hawkins asked.

"Why else would he be killed?" Joe asked. "It would be too big of a coincidence if he was killed for another reason, especially right before he was supposed to meet us."

Hawkins nodded. "But why kill this guy?" he asked. "When Nancy recovers, she'll be able to tell us everything."

"Maybe they're hoping that she doesn't," Joe said.

Frank looked at his brother sharply and Joe shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just voicing what we're all thinking, Frank."

Chief Hawkins looked at the brothers with a grim expression on his tired face. "If she does pull through, that means she will still be in danger. If they know she's alive, they'll want to do something about that."

"Well, thanks to all of the reporters, everyone knows she is," Frank said, his voice tinged with a mixture of anger and fear.

"I'm not letting them have another chance at her," Chief Hawkins said. He yanked his cell phone from his belt clip and dialed a number. "I want guards posted outside Nancy Drew's hospital room at all times. I don't care what you have to do—make it happen!"

"Do you really think they'll try something with so many people around?" Frank asked when Hawkins had hung up the phone.

"I really don't think they care about anything," Hawkins said.

"We're not going to let anything else happen to her, Frank," Joe said, gently.

Frank nodded and turned his troubled attention to the coroner as she loaded Johnny's body into the van. She was a tall woman with light brown hair that was pulled into a hasty ponytail. He had a feeling she wasn't too thrilled about being called out here in the middle of the night.

_Oh, well…_Frank thought. _Join the club._

The coroner waved at Chief Hawkins and he nodded. "Excuse me, boys," he said and walked over to the van.

The boys watched as the chief and coroner conversed.

"What the hell did Nancy get herself into, Joe?" Frank asked, quietly.

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Barry Allen put down his digital camera and watched the circus on the pier. Guilt was trying it's best to eat at him and he was trying his hardest to push it away with reasoning. He _had _to kill Johnny. If he didn't, then the boss surely would have. And that meant Barry would have been killed, as well. Barry still didn't know him very well and had no idea what he was capable of doing.

And he didn't want to find out, either. After all, he had tortured and held a woman prisoner for a week. And Barry could see in his eyes that he wished he could have held onto her longer. If he could do that and still manage to sleep well at night, then Barry was sure he didn't want to be on his bad side.

He picked his camera back up and browsed through the pictures he had taken. The two men that had shown up at the pier after he had killed Johnny troubled him. Somehow they looked familiar to him, especially the dark-haired one. He racked his brain and tried to pull up the recollection when it finally hit him.

He was the woman's fiancé who had been pleading her safe return all week on the television. The name was escaping him at the moment, but he was sure that the boss would know.

Barry put down the camera and started his car. After making sure no one was watching him, he eased out of his parking spot and slowly made his way out of the parking lot, careful to avoid attention.

Fifteen minutes later he was parking in front of an old abandoned cottage that used to serve as a small bookstore. The boss had bought it a few weeks back and while the front still looked to be in a state of total disrepair, he had gone out of his way to make sure the inside looked nice. It had all of the lavish furnishings one could hope for and was stocked with computers and other electronic gadgets, equipped with the latest technology.

He saw the light shining beneath the door of the office, so he made his way there. He knocked on the door and saw the boss poring over papers that covered his desk.

"Is it done?" the boss asked without looking up.

"Yeah," Barry said, glancing at the papers. He saw that they were blueprints of some kind.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a silky voice.

"I have the proof right here," Barry said, holding out his camera.

The boss finally looked up and grabbed the camera away from Barry. He reviewed the pictures and smiled a chilling smile at Barry when he was finished.

"Good," he said, proudly.

"I stuck around to see who Johnny was meeting with," Barry said.

"And what did you find out?" he asked.

Barry picked up the camera and browsed through the pictures until he came to the one that interested him.

"Them," he said, showing the picture to the boss.

The boss studied the picture and then grabbed a file folder from a drawer. He opened it up and read from it. "Frank and Joe Hardy," he said.

"The dark-haired one is the woman's fiancé," Barry stated.

"Yes—and he also happens to be a homicide detective for the Chicago Police Department. His brother is currently studying criminology at NYU," he explained.

"Should we be worried about them?" Barry asked.

"Most definitely," the boss said. "We'll keep an eye on them for the time being. Our plans go down soon. I'm not throwing them away for two boys who want to play detective."

"But what if they—?" Barry began.

"I'll worry about it later," he said firmly and fixed Barry with a withering glance.

"Fine," Barry said.

"Good," he said. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, don't you have a brother that needs to be buried?"

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	7. F B Interference

**Author's Note: Thanks again for all of the awesome reviews! It really keeps me writing and the response to this story has just been phenomenal. In this chapter, you will basically find out who are baddies are. Just so you know Randy Wolfe is my favorite villain from all of the Nancy Drew stories published. I have always wanted him to come back for a reappearance and now is my chance to do that! He's from_ Nancy Drew File #28 The Black Widow_, if you want a refresher course on him.**

**That being said, please review and let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: Since I am about to make Randy a part of this story, I just have to say I don't own him, Nancy, the Hardys, or any other character that is not of my imagination. But I really wish I did…maybe you guys can make that happen for me for Christmas!**

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Frank Hardy was starting to feel a little frustrated. Things were just not going right for him and he was starting to wonder, if perhaps, the world was out to get him.

Nancy still wasn't awake though the doctors remained very optimistic that she would awake soon. And now the only person that could possibly help them was lying on a cold steel table in the morgue.

Yep—Frank Hardy was sure that the world was out to get him.

He looked down at Nancy as she slept and wondered how the steady beeping of the heart monitor wasn't annoying her enough to snap her back to consciousness. He had only been in the room for thirty minutes and he was ready to toss the monitor out the window. He thought about going out to his car and grabbing his I-Pod, but figured it wouldn't be fair to Nancy. If she had to suffer from the incessant beeping, then so would he.

Luckily for him, his torture ended when Joe poked his head into the room.

"Any change?" Joe asked, quietly.

Frank shook his head. "No. Nothing yet."

"You might want to come out here," Joe said with an apologetic look in his blue eyes. "There's a couple of people you'll want to meet that are here."

Frank looked at his brother questioningly, but his eyes lit up. "Is it about Nancy?" he asked.

Joe nodded and Frank flew up from his seat and followed his brother to the waiting room. There, along with Carson Drew, Frank saw two men in suits. The feeling of dread that formed in his stomach told him that they probably weren't there for anything good.

"Frank Hardy?" one of the men asked.

Frank nodded and looked at the men warily. "Who are you?"

"I'm Agent Jack Phelps and this is my partner Agent Daniel Brennan. We're with the FBI," he said and he and his partner held out their badges for Frank to see.

Frank checked them and then looked at the two agents, sizing them up. "What brings you to River Heights?"

Agent Phelps looked around at the few people that were scattered in the waiting room. "Is there somewhere else we can talk?"

"I'm not leaving the hospital," Frank said, firmly. "So it's either here or the cafeteria."

Agent Phelps shrugged and glanced at his partner. Agent Brennan nodded and said, "The cafeteria's fine."

The five men piled into the elevator and rode down in silence to the first floor. Frank glanced at Joe, hoping he could give a hint as to what was going on, but he merely shrugged his shoulders and gave Frank a confused look of his own. Finally, the elevator stopped and they walked the short distance to the cafeteria.

After grabbing coffees, they gathered around a small table that was in a back corner of the large room.

"I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here and what do you want?" Frank demanded, after taking a sip of his coffee.

"We're here because of your fiancée," Agent Phelps said, glancing at Frank. Frank returned his look with a glare. There was something about this agent that he didn't like.

"Why are you here about my daughter?" Carson asked, finally breaking his silence. "What would she have to do with the FBI?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Drew," Agent Brennan apologized. "I realize we're bothering you at a bad time, but your daughter was working with us on a case."

Frank focused on Agent Brennan, who appeared to be the nicer of the two agents. "What?" he asked, shocked. "That's crazy! She would have told me if she was working with the FBI."

"Not exactly," Agent Phelps said. "We asked her to keep her work quiet from everyone." He shot a look at Frank. "Including you."

"What kind of work?" Joe asked quickly before Frank could say anything. He knew his brother's temper when it concerned Nancy. "What was so important that she had to keep it from us?"

"We have reason to believe a huge emerald heist is going down within the next week," Agent Brennan said.

"How huge?" Joe asked.

"Millions of dollars worth," Agent Phelps said.

"What does this have to do with Nancy?" Carson asked, growing irritated.

Agent Phelps produced a folder from a briefcase that was sitting beside him. He placed it in front of Carson, Frank, and Joe and opened it up. There, on top of a pile of papers, sat two pictures.

"Who are they?" Frank asked, picking up the pictures.

"The blonde man is Randy Wolfe," Carson said before the agents could answer.

Agent Phelps glanced at Carson in surprise and nodded his head. "That's correct," he said.

"How do you know?" Frank asked, looking at Carson.

"Nancy and I met him a few years ago on a cruise to Rio," Carson explained. "He came damn near close to killing Nancy by pushing her out of a cable car."

"What Mr. Drew hasn't told you is that Randy Wolfe was responsible for another emerald heist several years back," Agent Brennan said. "He didn't succeed with that one because Nancy stopped him from retrieving the emeralds."

"This says that he was sentenced to twenty years in prison in Rio," Frank said, looking at Randy's record.

"He was paroled a few weeks ago on good behavior," Agent Phelps said. "Funny, Rio doesn't see good behavior the way we do in the States."

"What makes you think he's here in the States?" Frank asked.

"We got word on a shipment of emeralds that was heading to Chicago. Red flags went up when an agent working undercover for Miguel Sanchez alerted us to a possible heist," Agent Brennan explained. "He overheard a conversation between Sanchez and Wolfe. That other picture that you have is Sanchez."

"Miguel Sanchez," Joe said thoughtfully. "Why does that name sound familiar to me?"

"Miguel Sanchez is a major crime lord down in Miami. He's involved in everything from drugs, money laundering, extortion, and murder," Agent Phelps said and shrugged one shoulder. "Only, recently, he has expanded his business to include the jewelry trade."

"Why don't you stop him, then?" Joe asked.

"We would if he didn't manage to keep his hands clean the entire time," Agent Phelps said, slightly annoyed.

Agent Brennan picked up the conversation from his partner. "Sanchez has a lot of money that he can spread around. The thing about him is that he compensates his employees very well. Hell, I would work for him if he offered me the job." Agent Phelps shot his partner an angry glare, but Brennan shrugged it off. "If any of his employees are killed or caught and they were loyal to him until the very end, then he makes sure their families are taken care of for life."

"And because of this no one wants to rat out Sanchez," Agent Phelps said. "So we had to send one of our men in. He's been there for eight months and he's managed to become Sanchez's right-hand man. But he still doesn't have enough on Sanchez to bring him down, so we need for this heist to go down."

"So you _are _going to let this heist happen?" Frank asked, dubiously.

"It's the only way to bring Sanchez down," Agent Brennan said.

"And this brings me back to my original question: What does any of this have to do with Nancy?" Frank asked again.

Agent Phelps took a long sip of his coffee and sighed. "The only way to bring Sanchez down is to make sure Wolfe is brought down with him. We needed someone who knew how Randy Wolfe worked. What better person than the one who managed to put him away the first time?"

"You have profilers that can help you figure out how he works," Frank said. "Why not use them? They're paid for that sort of thing."

"We don't have time for that," Agent Phelps said.

"You should have made the time," Frank said, angrily. "Because of your eagerness, Nancy was kidnapped and nearly murdered!"

"We were very sorry to hear that but there is no proof that Randy Wolfe is behind what happened to her," Agent Phelps argued.

"Who else could it have been?" Carson demanded. "My daughter hasn't taken on any new cases for the past few weeks except for what she has apparently been working on for you."

"We understand that you are upset, Mr. Drew," Agent Brennan said gently.

Carson scoffed at him. "You understand? Tell me, Agents, do either of you have children?"

Both agents looked at each other and meekly shook their heads.

"Do you know what it's been like for the last week not knowing where my daughter was or if she was even alive? Do you know what it was like hearing from the police and the doctors that my daughter was tortured before she was finally released? And then to find out that the odds were pretty good that she wasn't supposed to survive?" Carson glared at both agents. "_No_. So do not come in here and tell me how sorry that you are and that you understand. It's your fault that she is in a coma. It's your fault that she was in this mess to begin with."

Carson gave them one more scathing look and pushed away from the table. Frank, Joe, and the two agents watched as he stormed out of the cafeteria.

Agent Phelps cleared his throat. "We really are—"

"Don't," Frank said, coldly. "Everything that man just said echoes my thoughts exactly."

"That may be true, but we still need her help," Agent Phelps said.

"You knew how dangerous Wolfe was. You also had to know that he would go after her, given the chance," Frank said.

"We are truly sorry that Miss Drew was hurt," Agent Brennan said. "You have to believe us when we say that."

"I don't have to believe a damn thing that you tell me," Frank said.

"Mr. Hardy—" Agent Phelps pleaded.

Frank stood up and held up his hand. "I'm not saying anymore. When Nancy wakes up and if she tells me she wants to continue helping you, then she will. But I will not force her to do it because you need her and you will not be bothering her, either."

"Mr. Hardy, this is a federal matter," Agent Phelps said.

"No, Agent Phelps," Frank said, coldly. "This is a personal matter. If you have a problem with that, then come after me yourself."

Frank got up from the table, with Joe following. The agents watched as the two brothers walked out of the cafeteria.

"Just our luck we would get an overprotective boyfriend," Agent Phelps said, disgusted.

"So what are we going to do?" Agent Brennan asked. "Without Nancy's help, we'll

never be able to bring down Sanchez and Wolfe."

Agent Phelps drained the last of his coffee and crumpled up the Styrofoam cup. "Don't worry about that. We're not going to let some hot-headed lover destroy the biggest case of our careers."

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**Please review and the next chapter will be posted soon!**


	8. The Awakening

**Author's Note: Thanks again for all of the reviews! I really love seeing them come in!**

**I know I haven't addressed this, and it may come a little too late, but here it is anyway. There is a god bit of cussing in this story and if you are sensitive to that, then I do apologize. The way I see it, these characters have grown up and so has their language. If I am going to make them as realistic as I can, then I have to add certain elements that may not make some happy. But this is a T-rated story so it is acceptable. (By the way, I have had no complaints about this, but I figured I would address it in case it ever came up.)**

**Enjoy!**

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"You really need to learn to control that temper of yours," Joe said as he and Frank made their way to the ICU ward.

"What do you care?" Frank asked. "Isn't that what you usually like to do? Be a rebel?"

"A rebel—yes; stupid—no," Joe said. "Frank, we are talking about the FBI. We know how these guys work. This is a _federal _case and we just basically told them to go jump in the river."

"'Jump in the river'?" Frank raised his eyebrows at his brother. "To tell you the truth, I was telling them not to let the doorknob hit them in the ass on their way out."

"Cute, Frank," Joe said, rolling his eyes.

"Seriously, Joe, I'm not going to let them get Nancy hurt again. If she wants to continue to help them when she wakes up and it's a decision that she has made on her own, then I won't stop her. But _she _has to tell me she wants to do it," Frank said.

Joe pinched his brother's cheeks. "He just looks so cute when he's protective," he said in a baby voice.

Frank punched his brother on the arm. "Shut up," he said, chuckling.

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_Beep…Beep…Beep…_

The rhythmic sound of the heart monitor was the first sound that Nancy heard as she slowly clawed her way through the darkness that surrounded her.

She opened her eyes to see that she was lying in a softly lit room that was filled with machines, a small table and two chairs, and a television that was mounted to the wall. She looked down at her hands to see that she had a tube running from each one that were hooked to an IV machine.

She was confused. She had no idea why she was lying in a hospital bed. _What have I done to land in the hospital? Am I even on a case? How long have I been here?_

Nancy looked up as the door to her room opened and smiled softly at the person that entered. But her smile was nothing compared to the one that Frank Hardy had on his face.

"Oh, my God, Nancy! You're awake!" he exclaimed as he rushed to her bedside.

"Frank…" she said softly, confused by his reaction.

"You have no idea what a relief it is for me to see you awake," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"What are you talking about?" Nancy asked. "How long have I been out?"

"A couple of days now," he said, softly.

"Why am I here?" Nancy asked. "What happened to me?"

"You don't remember?" Frank asked confused.

Nancy shook her head.

Frank gazed at Nancy, concern in the deep brown eyes. "What _is _the last thing you remember?"

"We came to River Heights to work out details for the wedding," Nancy said, without hesitation. "Were we in a car accident or something?"

Frank looked down and let out a sigh. "No," he said, softly.

A stab of fear went through Nancy as she watched Frank's facial expressions. "What is it, Frank? What happened to me?"

"Nancy, we shouldn't talk about this right now," Frank said, gently. "You need time to regain your strength."

Nancy shook her head. "Tell me," she said, growing hysterical.

"All right, I'll tell you, Nan," Frank said. "But you have got to calm down, okay?"

Nancy took a deep breath and nodded.

"A jogger found you a couple of mornings ago," he began.

"Found me?" Nancy asked. "What do you mean?"

"Let me start from the beginning. Over a week ago, you went missing. In fact, it was a few days after we arrived in River Heights when you disappeared," he said.

"Where was I?" Nancy asked.

Frank shrugged his shoulders, helplessly. "We're not sure. We had no idea where you were, who took you, or if you were even still alive. We never received a phone call or ransom note so we had no idea what had happened to you."

Nancy remained silent, trying to absorb everything he was telling her.

Frank continued on. "Finally, we got a phone call from the police saying you had been found at the River Heights Memorial Park. Someone had dumped you there but not before trying their best to make sure you never woke up. Later that day, I received a phone call from someone claiming to know what happened to you."

"From who?" Nancy asked, anxiously. "What did they say?"

Frank shook his head. "I don't know. He was murdered before Joe and I got a chance to meet with him."

Nancy was silent for a few long moments. Frank began to worry that he had pushed her too far. "Is there anything else?" she finally asked.

Frank hesitated. He really didn't want to say anything about the FBI until he was sure she was okay. Luckily, he was saved when the door opened and a nurse came into the room.

The nurse stopped in mid-stride when she saw that Nancy was awake. "How long has she been awake?" she asked shocked.

Frank looked down at his watch. "Just about ten minutes," he answered.

"I better go get the doctor," she said, and rushed out of the room.

Frank stood up, preparing to make his own exit. "I better let your dad and everyone know that you're okay."

Nancy reached up and grabbed his hand before he could get away. "You were going to say something else before that nurse came in here. What was it?"

_Damn, I should have known she would have caught that,_ Frank thought, cringing. Instead he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I was just going to say that I missed you," he said, quickly.

Nancy shot him a warning look. "Nice try, Hardy."

"Nancy, I promise we'll talk later. I've probably told you too much as it is," Frank said. He leaned down and kissed her softly. "I'll be back in a little bit."

"Frank—"

Frank didn't turn around to acknowledge her. He could feel her piercing gaze on his back as he walked out of the room. He knew he was right though. He _had _told her too much, especially since she had just come out of a coma not fifteen minutes ago. And he was going to hold off on telling her about the FBI for as long as he could.

Because he knew one thing for sure: If Nancy Drew found out she was helping the FBI on a case before she went missing, she would be out of the hospital bed and knocking on their door within the hour.

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Randy Wolfe looked at his ringing cell phone with contempt. He was never one who liked to talk on the phone, but in his line of work it was necessary for him to have one. If he had a conversation, he liked for it to be face-to-face so he could read their facial expressions. Talking on the phone made it impossible to him to know if the other person was screwing him over or not.

One look at the Caller ID made his contempt grow five times worse.

"Miguel," he said as way of greeting.

"Señor Wolfe," Miguel said in his heavy Spanish accent. "How are you this evening?"

Randy rolled his eyes. One thing he could say about Miguel Sanchez is that for a ruthless man, he was always very cordial.

"Couldn't be better," Randy answered, fake sincerity filling his voice.

"Good. That's what I like to hear," Miguel said.

"Was there something that you needed, Miguel?" Randy asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"I haven't heard from you in days, Randy," Miguel said. "I was merely checking in with you."

"I don't have to keep you in the loop," Randy said. Then he added, "I'm still finalizing the plans,"

"Good. You know that I do not like hitches," Miguel said, ignoring his first comment. "Speaking of hitches, is the woman still going to be a problem for you?"

"Not likely. She's in a coma," Randy said.

"She should be dead," Miguel said his voice growing cold as steel. "If you had not hired incompetent help, she would no longer be a problem."

Randy gritted his teeth. "I assure you that the problem with the incompetent help has been rectified."

"Good," Miguel said. His voice remained hard. "I'm paying you too much for you to screw up. Don't forget, Señor—you'd still be rotting in that Rio prison if it were not for me."

Randy heard a click and then the droning of a dial tone.

"Son of a bitch!" Randy yelled, throwing his phone against the wall. He watched with mild satisfaction as it shattered into several large pieces.

How dare Miguel think he could treat him like dirt! If it weren't for him, he'd never be getting his hands on those emeralds in the first place. And for Sanchez to think he _owed _him! He could have gotten out of that prison on his own. But Randy had learned early on to accept what was given to him.

He sent one last look at the shattered phone and added yet another thing to his ever-growing mental to-do list: he would definitely have to get another phone if he was going to keep Miguel Sanchez satisfied. The last thing he wanted was an angry crime lord on his ass.

Randy took a deep breath and grabbed his keys. He needed to get away and think things through. He got into his car and drove the few blocks to McAlister's Pub. Luckily there weren't that many cars in the parking lot, so he figured people wouldn't bother him tonight.

He pushed through the heavy wooden door and was instantly greeted by lively Irish music, smoke, and loud voices. A football game was underway on the big screen television that was at the back of the bar. He ignored it and his interest was piqued when he looked at the end of the bar. That sight alone made him burst into a smile. As he made his way to the leggy blonde, he shined his smile for all it was worth.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked.

The woman let a flirty smile play on her lips. ""I don't really take drinks from strangers," she said, her voice light.

"Fair enough," Randy said as he offered his hand to her. "I'm Randy—now, what can I get you to drink?"

The blonde tossed her head back and laughed. "You're good," she said.

"You have no idea," he said.

As Randy took the barstool next to her and ordered their drinks, he knew Sanchez would no longer trouble his mind for the remainder of the night.

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**Okay…so Nancy is finally awake and we have gotten into the character of Randy a little bit more. Although he wasn't really this characterized in _The Black Widow_, I figured that I could flesh him out a little bit and really let him come out and play.**

**I will update in a few days so keep checking!**

**And as always…please review!**


	9. Give My Regards

**Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews! Sorry I haven't updated sooner, but the sudden change in weather decided to make this little author sick! That and I went to the movies this weekend and saw "The Guardian"—a very good movie by the way. My advice: get to the theater early so you don't have to sit in the second row…my neck hurt all night after that and I had to chase the characters on the screen to keep up with them.**

**Anyways, this chapter is a little shorter than what I normally do and it doesn't leave off at such a cliffie…but don't fret! I have more cliffies to come!**

Joe jumped from his seat when he saw Frank enter the waiting room. "Did something happen to Nancy? I just saw a nurse running down the hall."

Frank smiled at his brother. "She's awake, Joe."

"What? Really?" Joe smiled and hugged his brother. "Frank, that's great!"

Yeah," Frank said softly.

"Frank, this is great news," Joe said. "You of all people should be doing back flips across the waiting room."  
Frank sank down into a chair and looked at Joe. "First, I could never do back flips. Secondly, I am happy, but there's something else, Joe."

Joe saw the look of concern in Frank's eyes and the smile instantly vanished from his face. He sat down beside his brother just as the nurse returned, this time followed by Nancy's doctor.

"What is it, Frank?" Joe asked, gently.

Frank sighed and looked down at his feet. "Nancy can't remember what happened to her."

"What do you mean?" Joe asked.

"She has no recollection of the past week," Frank explained.

"You mean amnesia," Joe said slowly.

Frank nodded. "The last thing she remembers is coming to River Heights. That was ten days ago."

"Oh, man," Joe muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"Yeah," Frank agreed. "Just when I think I finally have her back, something else comes along to knock us both down again."

"Maybe it's only temporary," Joe said, helpfully.

Frank shrugged. "You should have seen the look on her face when I told her what happened to her. I have never seen her so lost or so scared in my life."

"You told her what happened to her?" Joe asked, shocked. "Do you really think that was a wise thing to do?"

"No," Frank answered. "But I couldn't very well lie to her. Amnesia or not, she still knows when I'm lying to her."

The elevator doors opened and Carson ran in, breathless. "The hospital just called me. Is she awake?"

Frank stood up and nodded. "The doctor is in with her right now."

Carson let out a tired sigh and smiled just as Doctor Troy came into the waiting room.

"How is she doing?" Carson asked anxiously.

"She's awake and fully conscious. I'm having her moved to a regular room and I don't see why she shouldn't be able to go home within a couple of days," he said, smiling.

The three men looked at each other and broke into huge grins.

"Doctor Troy, there is one thing that is bothering me," Frank said, breaking the joyful celebration.

"What's that, Mr. Hardy?" he asked.

"I was with Nancy when she woke up and she didn't know why she was in the hospital. She couldn't remember what had happened to her," Frank explained.

Doctor Troy nodded understandingly. "I wouldn't worry too much about that. It's very common for head trauma patients to experience short-term memory loss. She just went through a very traumatic experience so it's perfectly natural for her not to remember what happened to her."

"But will she get her memory back?" Carson asked.

Doctor Troy shrugged. "It's hard to say. Some patients are able to retrieve their memories and some aren't. Some patients that do remember want to do everything in their power to block those horrific memories. It's just different with every patient. But would it really be such a bad thing if she didn't remember?"

"No, I guess not," Frank said.

"I'll tell the nurse to let you know when she's moved to another room," Doctor Troy said.

"Thank you, Doctor," Carson said gratefully.

Doctor Troy nodded and walked to the nurses' station. Carson and the Hardys sat down, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally after fifteen minutes, a nurse came into the waiting room, smiling.

"We've moved Nancy to Room 135. You can see her now."

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_Going to the pub last night had been a great idea,_ Randy thought as he looked over at Gina, the blonde he had met last night. It hadn't taken long for him to convince her to come back to his place, especially after she had finished her fourth drink.

And he had to admit he _was_ feeling a lot better. Gina certainly had a way of taking his mind off of everything. She knew she was very good and she worked that to her whole advantage.

He picked up his watch off of the small bedside table and saw that it was approaching nine o'clock. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid into his boxers. He watched as Gina softly stirred next to him and then quietly headed into the small kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. The coffee had barely started when there was a soft knock on the door.

He opened to door to see Barry standing in front of him, a nervous expression on his face.

"I thought I told you never to come to my apartment," Randy growled.

"You did, but I couldn't get an answer on your phone," Barry said quickly.

"That's because it had an unfortunate meeting with the wall last night," Randy said. "I would invite you in, but I'm afraid I'm a little busy at the moment."

"I thought you would want to know the latest on the Drew woman," Barry said, licking his lips nervously.

"Is she dead?" Randy asked, hopeful.

"Well, no—" Barry said.

"Then I don't want to hear anything about her," Randy said, closing the door.

Barry stopped it from shutting completely. "She awoke from her coma last night. The doctors expect her to make a full recovery."

Randy glared at Barry, silently fuming. "None of this would have happened if you had done the job I paid you to do. I guess I'm going to have to pay our intrepid sleuth a little visit."

Barry shuffled back and forth on his feet. "Maybe not. One of the nurses told me she can't remember what happened to her. Maybe she won't bother us."

Randy chuckled. "I'm afraid you don't know Nancy as well as I do. She is quite capable of anything. After all, she managed to survive me the first time."

"What do you want me to do about her?" Barry asked.

Before Randy could answer, he was interrupted by a sultry female voice.

"Randy, are you coming back to bed?"

Randy smiled as he glanced over his shoulder. "I'll be there in a couple of minutes, babe."

"Don't keep me waiting for too long," she said as she returned back to the bedroom.

Randy watched her saunter back to the bedroom and his smile vanished as he turned his head back around to look at Barry. "I don't want you to do anything about Nancy. I'll handle her myself since you couldn't do it the first time. Go find Marco and see how he's doing with everything."

Barry nodded and scurried away as quickly as he could. Randy closed the door, frustrated. He should have known Nancy wouldn't stay down for long. She had been a worthy adversary the first time they met and she was proving to be that once again.

Maybe it was time to send her another message. Amnesia or not, she still remembered who he was.

Randy walked back to his bedroom and found Gina waiting in bed for him. He ignored her as he slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

"Where are you going?" she asked, pouting.

He grabbed his loafers and slipped them on as he looked back at her. "Sorry…you were fun and everything but I'm not one for commitment."

"So, you're leaving?" she asked, astonished.

"What can I say? I have another woman who requires my complete and undivided attention at the moment," Randy said, smiling at her.

"Bastard," Gina muttered under her breath.

"You've got that right, babe," Randy said. "But let me provide you with some helpful advice—if you're looking for a man to call all your own, don't look for him in a bar."  
He grabbed his keys and didn't wait to hear Gina's response. He imagined it was something pretty bad, but at the moment, he had other things on his mind. He drove down the street and ten minutes later, he was at his destination.

A tinkling bell announced his presence and a kindly elderly woman smiled at him from behind the counter. "Welcome to Hattie's Florist. What can I help you with?"

"Let me guess—you're Hattie?" he asked.

Hattie nodded. "I've been so for the last sixty-five years," she answered cheerfully.

Randy smiled a brilliant smile. "Well, Hattie, do you happen to have any gardenias?"

Hattie nodded happily. "I just got a shipment in yesterday," she said as she pulled out a tablet. "So, who's the lucky lady?"

Randy looked at Hattie, his green eyes twinkling. "The only woman who has occupied my thoughts for the past six years."

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**You are probable asking yourself about the gardenias but in _The Black Widow_, Randy has them delivered to Nancy's room at the beginning of the book. He is just trying to bring back some memories to her.**

**I will clear it up for you in the next chapter or two!**

**Well, you know what to do now…review! You know what they say…a reviewed author is a happy author!**


	10. Visitor

"How are you feeling, honey?" Carson asked Nancy who was now resting comfortably in a recovery room.

She took a sip of the water that Frank had handed her and smiled weakly at her father. "I'm just having some minor pain but it's nothing I can't handle. I'm just more confused than anything else."  
"I know you are, sweetheart. But don't worry—I'm sure that everything will come back to you soon enough," Carson said.

"But I will worry. I feel so helpless and so stupid because I can't remember what happened to me. And I see on your faces how frustrated you are and that frustrates and worries me even more," Nancy said.

"We know how frustrated you are, Nan," Frank said, softly.

"Do you?" Nancy asked. "Have any of you ever lost your memory?"

All three men shook their heads.

"Then you have no idea how frustrated I am. It's like someone took control of me for a brief period and got to choose what I could and couldn't remember," Nancy said.

"Nancy, we don't mean to patronize you. We really want to be able to help you but we're afraid that any little thing we do may hinder you or upset you," Frank said.

Nancy let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to get onto you but it's like I have all of this pent up anger and I'm just releasing it on the first person I see."

"Stop apologizing, Nancy. You have nothing to apologize for," Carson said sternly.

"It's the only thing I can think of to say," Nancy said.

"Your dad is right, Nan. You have nothing to apologize for. It was not your fault that you were kidnapped and nearly murdered. If you want anyone to blame then let's find the people that did this to you and bring them down," Frank said. "They are the ones that you need to be placing the blame on."

"But I don't know who did this to me," Nancy protested.

"Then we find out," Frank said.

"Frank's right, Nancy. We do what we do best—we investigate," Joe said.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. A nurse in pink scrubs came in holding a small tray containing a cup of pills and a glass of water. She smiled at them apologetically as she set the tray down.

"I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over. Miss Drew needs to get her rest," she said.

Carson, Frank, and Joe were reluctant, but they knew there was no arguing. They each gave her a kiss on the cheek as the nurse looked on.

"We'll see you tomorrow morning," Frank said.

"I may try to come by sometime tonight. I have a couple of cases I need to go over at the office first and I'm not sure how long it's going to take," Carson said.

"Okay," Nancy said.

The men walked into the hallway as the nurse handed Nancy the pills and glass of water.

"So, what are you boys going to do?" Carson asked.

"I'm not really sure. I think we may go talk to Chief Hawkins and see if they've found anything else," Frank said.

"Just let me know if you find out anything," he said.

"Sure thing," Frank said, nodding his head.

Joe waited until Carson had gotten into the elevator before turning back to Frank. "So when are you going to tell Nancy you have an idea about who attacked her?"

Frank looked back at Nancy's closed door and let out a frustrated sigh. "We don't know that Randy Wolfe attacked Nancy," he said.

"Who else could it be?" Joe asked. "The FBI pretty much guaranteed it for us."

"Maybe so," Frank said. "But I don't want the FBI involved in this anymore if I can help it."

"They're not going to stay away, Frank—no matter how much you bitch and moan," Joe said. "They have an annoying tendency to stick around even if you don't want them too."

"Look, I'll tell her after she gets out of here and not before," Frank said. "Now, let's get out of here."

Joe remained where he was standing and watched as Frank walked ahead of him towards the elevators. _Why did Frank always have to be so stubborn when it came to Nancy? He always has to take things so personally when it concerns her._

"Are you coming?" Frank asked, impatiently holding the doors to the elevator open.

Joe rolled his eyes and smiled at his brother. "I'll be right there," he said in a sing-song voice.

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"Sir, can I help you with something?"

Randy looked at the cute, petite nurse behind the desk and smiled appreciatively. "I'm actually here to visit someone," he said, adjusting the enormous bouquet of gardenias he was holding.

The nurse smiled at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over for right now. They won't commence again until tomorrow morning."

Randy sighed. "I was afraid I was too late. I was in town for business and I was stuck in a meeting all day. This was the first chance I got to get away and I wanted to drop by and see her before I went back home to California. We sort of have a history together and I just wanted her to know I was thinking about her."

The nurse looked around and then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm not really supposed to, but I suppose I could let you visit her for five minutes."

Randy shook his head. "There is no way I could ask you to do that for me—" he paused, searching for her name.

"Amy," she supplied, eagerly.

He smiled. "Amy. I would really hate for you to get in trouble on my part. I could never ask you to break the rules for me."

Amy waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. My dad's on the hospital's board of directors," she said. "Besides, it's not like you're going in there to kill her, right?" she added, jokingly.

Randy chuckled and smiled back at her. "Right," he said.

"Do you happen to know the room number?" she asked.

Randy shook his head. "I'm afraid not."  
"That's okay, I can help you with that—what's her name?" she asked.

"Nancy Drew," he answered.

"She seems to be a popular one around here," she muttered as she typed the name into the computer. "She's in Room 135. Remember—only five minutes."

"Thank you, Amy," he said, flashing her one last brilliant smile.

Amy blushed, giggled, and then returned to her work.

Randy walked only a short distance down the hall before he found Nancy's room number. He didn't bother knocking because, as the nurse had said, visiting hours were over and he was almost sure no one would be in the room.

As he pushed the door open, he placed the gardenias in front of his face just in case Nancy was awake. _Luck must really be on my side, _he thought to himself as he saw her sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed. _Not that I need any luck…_

He moved the daisies that were beside her bed so he could place the gardenias right beside her. He looked down at her and couldn't help the flutter in his stomach. After all, he was attracted to her at one point all those years ago. And he was finding it pretty impossible not to be attracted to her now.

"Well, I have to say, blue eyes, you still look good for someone who's had the crap beaten out of them," he said, chuckling softly.

He leaned down closer to whisper to her. "I heard you can't remember what happened to you. Pity, really, because I sure worked a number on you. But that's okay—it still gives me one more shot at you. And this time, you won't wake up because I'm going to make sure I'm there to hear your very last breath."

He froze slightly when she stirred, afraid that he may have woken her up. But he quickly relaxed when he realized that she remained asleep.

"I really hate to cut this visit short but I have to get going before that little nurse comes in here and runs me out," Randy said. "Be sure to enjoy the flowers, blue eyes. I remembered how much you loved gardenias."

With one last look at her he walked out of the room and Amy smiled at him as he passed her desk.

"Did you have a good visit?" she asked, cheerfully.

"You have no idea," he said winking at her. "I owe you one, Amy," he said as he walked away.

Amy shrugged innocently. "I'm just glad that I could help."

Randy turned around and smiled at her one last time. "Oh, you did—in more ways than you could possibly know."

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**Author's Note: Okay, I know this is another "short" chapter, but if I kept it going it would quickly lose your interest. The one thing I'd hate to do is to lose you when I still have a lot more story to go!**

**As always, I value your opinion so let me know what you think!**

**Oh, and if you could help me get rid of my pesky cough, that would be greatly appreciated!**


	11. Admissions

**Author's Note: Again, the response has been so overwhelming that I am completely giddy! I love writing this story and I love that you are enjoying it so much.**

**As you will see, I have another familiar character in this chapter. She is someone that everyone really liked and I hope that you enjoy her as much as my betas have! **

**By the way, I got rid of the cough so, YAY**

**As always, I beg you to let me know what you think!**

Chapter 11

Carson sat in his office, just staring out the window, nothing really holding his attention. He had found it hard to focus on anything because he had been flooded with emotions ever since Nancy woke up. He was happy, confused, sad, and scared all at the same time. Their close relationship had finally mended itself after much tension between father and daughter. But that had been his fault and he knew he was entirely to blame for that,

Five years ago, he had agreed to represent Dominic Shepard, a cold-blooded killer who had tried to kill Nancy numerous times. When he had actually won that case, it was perhaps the worst day of his life. He had lost the trust of his daughter; a trust between them that had been strong since Nancy's mother had died when she was only three years old. Ever since that case, all of his relationships had suffered, but none greater between his and Nancy's.

Carson let out a long and weary sigh as a knock sounded at his door. He turned around as it opened and saw District Attorney Gwen Lawson enter. A smile instantly lit up his tired and haggard face.

Gwen smiled back at him as she closed the door behind her. "Hey—you busy?"

"Never for you," he said.

Carson and Gwen had been dating casually for the past six months and they had just made the decision to make it a little more serious. He had to admit he was surprised when she had finally agreed to go on date with him, especially since they worked on opposite sides of the courtroom.

Gwen slightly blushed. "There must be something pretty interesting out that window that's holding your attention," she said. She went around the desk and gave him a kiss.

"The view just got a lot more interesting in here," Carson said, returning the kiss.

Gwen threw her head back and laughed. "So, what are you up to?"

"Not much," Carson said. "I just got back from the hospital."

"How is Nancy doing?" Gwen asked, concern filling her warm voice.

"Better," Carson said, nodding "She's talking with everyone. Mostly she wants to figure out what happened to her. I guess that's what we all want."

"Just give her time," Gwen said, softly. "She'll be pushing herself hard enough as it is to try to remember something. Just knowing that she has people who love and support her will help her."

Carson smiled at her. "Has anyone told you how wonderful you are?"

"You're the first one today," she said.

"So, do you have any plans tonight?" Carson asked.

"Wow…I don't know," Gwen teased. "I may have to move some things around."

"I like the sound of that," Carson said, approvingly. "How about dinner with me tonight? I'll pick you up at seven-thirty?"

Gwen gave him another kiss. "Sounds like you have yourself a date, Mr. Drew."

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A hefty fragrance awoke Nancy from her peaceful slumber. She slowly opened her eyes and saw the biggest bouquet of gardenias she had ever laid eyes on. She groggily reached over to her bedside table and grabbed her watch, seeing that it was seven-fifteen in the morning. She had been sleeping since the previous afternoon and if anything, she was feeling wired.

She was just reaching for the card in the gardenias when the door opened and Frank walked in. The flowers momentarily forgotten, she smiled brilliantly at him as the leaned down to kiss her.

"I was afraid I was coming too early," Frank said.

"Nah," Nancy said, shaking her head. "I just woke up."

Frank glanced over at the flowers. "That's the most ridiculous display of flowers that I have ever seen," Frank said. "You got another suitor I should know about?"

"You have nothing to worry about," Nancy said, laughing. "Actually I'm not sure who they're from. I was about to see when you walked in the room."

Frank grabbed the card and handed it to Nancy. She tore open the envelope and frowned when she read the card.

"What is it?" Frank asked, seeing her expression.

"I'm not sure myself," Nancy said. She handed the card to Frank and he read it.

"'The Queen may be emerald; the Widow may be black; By the time I'm finished, Will you have your memory back?'" Frank read aloud.

Then Nancy saw something flicker across his face. "What is it?" she asked.

"I'll be right back," he said, glancing at the door.

"Frank—"

But he was already out the door.

Frank whirled on the security guard that was sitting in a chair outside of Nancy's room. "Who's been in her room?" he demanded.

"Wha—,"The security guard looked up at him, startled. "Well, no one except for doctors and nurses as far as I know."

"Did you ever leave your post last night?" he asked.

"I left once to get a snack, but I wasn't gone no longer than ten minutes," he said, quickly.

"What were you thinking?" Frank demanded, and then inwardly cringed. _The guy was hungry, Hardy. You can't expect the guy to sit there all night and not get hungy._

"There was someone who delivered flowers yesterday evening," a passing nurse said.

Frank instantly whirled on her. "Did you see who it was?"

"I was making rounds at the time," she said apologetically. "I only saw the back of his head as he was going into the room."

"So, you know it was a man?" Frank asked.

"Most definitely," the nurse said, nodding her head. "But talk to Amy at the desk. She was covering this wing last night." She glanced at her watch. "If you hurry you can still catch her before her shift ends."

Frank didn't waste any time as he jogged to the nurses' station. A couple of nurses were there and they both looked up at him in surprise as he stood there, slightly out of breath.

"Can I help you?"

"Are either of you Amy?" he asked, catching his breath.

The one who spoke to him nodded her head. "I'm Amy," she said. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah," Frank said his voice slightly gruff. "I want to know who went into my fiancée's room yesterday after I left."

"Who is your fiancée?" she asked.

"Nancy Drew," Frank said, impatiently.

Amy paled slightly and Frank didn't miss the look on her face. But she recovered just as quickly and cast a furtive glance at the nurse behind her, who was now scowling. "Let's go somewhere else and talk," she said to Frank.

She didn't wait for an answer as she quickly moved away from the station and made her way to the waiting room. Frank followed her to the corner of the room where no one was sitting and sat down.

He didn't give her a chance to speak first. "Who went into her room?" he demanded again.

Amy played with the hem of her scrub top and wouldn't meet his intense gaze. "I don't know his name. He was tall with thick, blond hair and green eyes."

Frank sucked in a breath—his suspicion had been correct. "Why did you let him in there, especially after visiting hours?"

"He said he wanted to see her before he had to go back to California. He sounded sincere enough, so I didn't question it," Amy explained.

"That wasn't your decision to make," Frank said roughly.

"I didn't see any harm in it," Amy argued weakly.

Frank bristled. "You didn't see any harm in it? That man you let into her room is very possibly the same man that put her in there in the first place! That's the reason that she has a security guard outside her room at all times."

Amy paled even more. "I didn't know," she whispered.

Frank was usually one to keep his anger in check but for some reason, he was having a hard time doing that right now. "Because of your carelessness, he could have gone in there to finish the job that he started!"

"Please, keep your voice down," Amy begged.

"I don't have to keep my voice down," Frank said, getting a little louder.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, sincerely anguished by the entire situation. Then she looked up at Frank, her eyes wide. "Are you going to report me?"

Frank took a deep breath, considering his options. On one hand, he _did _want to turn her in because if she let something like this happen with Nancy, who's to say that she wouldn't do it again? On the other hand, he saw how upset the situation was making her and figured she was punishing herself enough.

Frank finally reached a decision and looked at her. "I won't report you," he said, softly.

She flashed him a teary smile. "Thank you so much! I really am sorry for what I did."

"Yeah," Frank said. He stood up and headed back to Nancy's room. He knew she was going to question him as soon as he walked back in, considering he had bolted without an explanation. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. The look she shot him made him consider leaving the room again.

"What the hell was that about?" she demanded.

Frank sighed and sat down in the chair next to her bed. "We need to talk."

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"Sir, Timothy Winchester is here to see you."

Sam Macy looked up as his secretary, Lucy, stuck her head in. He gave her a warm smile and said, "Let him in."

A force to be reckoned with, Sam Macy was the curator in charge of the Chicago Museum of Modern Art and History. And if his security director was requesting a meeting, it was for something important.

Sam stood up and within seconds there was a knock on his door. Timothy Winchester, a lanky man of about forty with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes walked in.

"Timothy, please come in and have a seat," Sam said, indicating a plush leather chair that was in front of his desk. The men shook hands and each had a seat.

"What can I do for you?" Sam asked.

Timothy cleared his throat. "I'm a little worried about our new exhibit, sir—The Majesty Emeralds."

Sam laughed good-naturedly. "What's to worry about?" he asked.

Timothy took a deep breath. "There's been a rumor going around about a possible heist. If that's true, I don't have enough men to cover it."

Sam shook his head. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about. We'll have it completely covered tomorrow night for the unveiling."

Timothy wouldn't let up. "Talk is that the Sanchez family are wanting to get their hands on it," he said. "And from what I hear, they'll stop at nothing to get it."

Sam shrugged. "Let them. It won't do them any good."

Timothy eyed him warily. "What do you mean?"

"I know what this exhibit is worth and I know what lengths people will go to get their hands on it," Sam explained. "The FBI has already called and warned me of a possible heist."

"They have?" Timothy asked, surprised. "When?"

"A few days ago," Sam offered. "And the FBI and I have taken every precaution to ensure that the emeralds will be safe."

Timothy seemed to relax at that.

"Now talk to your men and make sure that they have everything in order for the gala tomorrow night," Sam said. "I want everything to go off without a hitch."

"Yes sir," Timothy said and hurried out of the office as his walkie-talkie crackled.

Sam leaned back and rubbed a hand over his tired face. He really hoped that he was telling Timothy the truth. And he hoped that the FBI was going to come through on their end.

Because if not then he was certainly going to have a lot of people to answer to.

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**Again, use the little button down there and leave this starving author a review!**

**Another update coming soon!**


	12. Unwanted Visitors

"Frank what is going on?" Nancy demanded for what must have been the fifteenth time. Her blue eyes gazed blazingly at him, causing him to momentarily flinch.

Frank knew that look and he knew it well. It was a look he rarely got and when he did, it was one that he could not get around. Leaning back in his seat, he took a deep breath.

"We may have an idea of who was behind your attack," he began.

Nancy's eyes anxiously searched his face. "Who was it?" she asked.

"Randy Wolfe."

Frank cringed when he saw her visibly pale. But she quickly recovered and began to vehemently shake her head.

"No," she said. "That's not possible."

"He's the only suspect that we have," Frank said.

"Then you have to be wrong, Frank," Nancy said. "I know for a fact that Randy Wolfe is in prison—in Rio."

"Do you want to know where I went when I ran out of here a few minutes ago?" Frank asked.

Nancy nodded her head.

"Those flowers freaked me out especially with that note attached," Frank said. "I talked to the guard we have outside your door and for a brief period of time, he was away. That was when the flowers were delivered to your room. A nurse told me she saw a man enter your room with them. I talked to another nurse and her description of the man matches Randy Wolfe exactly."

"Frank, that is impossible because he is in a Rio prison," Nancy said again.

Frank slowly shook his head.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asked.

Frank sighed. "He was released from prison a few weeks ago," he said. "And he's back in the States."

Nancy stared at Frank in disbelief. How could what he was saying be true? Randy was supposed to be in prison. And now the man she loved and trusted most in the world was telling her otherwise.

She let out a grunt of frustration. She just wished she could remember the events of the past week. Maybe then things would start to make a bit of sense to her.

"Nancy?" Frank asked, worried.

She looked at him but before she could say anything to him, the door opened and two men dressed in suits walked in. Hearing Frank curse under his breath, Nancy figured he knew who these men were and that their being there couldn't be good.

"Miss Drew, I'm Agent Phelps and this is my partner, Agent Brennan," he said as they both flashed their badges at her. She noticed they were avoiding Frank's angry glare. "We'd like to have a word with you."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Frank growled.

"This doesn't concern you, Mr. Hardy," Agent Phelps said, finally glancing in his direction.

"Like hell, it doesn't," Frank said rising from his chair. "Anything that has to do with Nancy concerns me."

"I'm afraid it doesn't always work that way," Agent Phelps said with a shrewd smile.

"I asked you to wait until she was better," Frank said, annoyed.

"And we don't have the time," Agent Phelps said, his patience with Frank dwindling.

Nancy glanced over at Agent Brennan and saw that he was trying to stay in the background. She then looked at Agent Phelps and felt her own patience dwindling with _him_. "Will someone please tell me what is going on here?" she asked in a loud voice.

Everyone looked at her, startled.

"Call your watchdog off and I'll be more than happy to," Agent Phelps said, his eyes never leaving Frank.

"Frank," Nancy said firmly, eyeing him.

"Nancy—" Frank started to protest.

Nancy cut him off with a fierce look. "The sooner they finish talking to me, the sooner they will leave," she pointed out.

"Fine," Frank muttered, falling back into his seat.

Agent Phelps cleared his throat as Agent Brennan looked on sheepishly.

"What now?" Frank barked.

"We're going to need you to move away from Miss Drew," he said.

Frank glared at him, but grabbed his chair and stalked to the far corner of the room. He slammed the chair down and sat down loudly.

"Miss Drew, I would first like to say how sorry we are that this happened to you," Agent Phelps said, his voice slightly softening.

"Thank you," Nancy said, eyeing both agents warily.

"Can you tell us what happened to you?" he asked.

"No," Nancy answered.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because I don't remember," Nancy said bluntly.

Agent Phelps glanced at his partner.

"Could you tell me what the FBI's interest in me is?" Nancy asked. She saw Frank shift slightly in his seat.

"Before you went missing, you were doing some consultant work for the FBI," Agent Phelps explained.

Nancy looked at the agent, confused. "Why would I be consulting with the FBI?"

"We've been investigating the Sanchez family, a known crime family, for a while now. When we got word that they were interested in a cache of emeralds heading to Chicago, we sent a man in undercover," he said. "Our agent found out that Miguel Sanchez had hired someone to steal the emeralds for him. Someone you know."

"Who?" Nancy asked, wondering where he was going with this.

"Randy Wolfe."

Nancy looked at Frank sharply and he just shrugged helplessly. This was now the second time in a matter of minutes that she had heard that name. She returned her gaze to Agent Phelps. "Why was I brought in?"

"You were the only one who knew how he worked," Agent Phelps said. "We didn't have time to get a profiler on board."

"How long ago was this?" she asked.

"About two weeks ago," Agent Phelps answered.

Nancy leaned back against her pillows, trying to digest everything that he was telling her. But everything that he was saying was only succeeding in making a jumbled mess in her mind. It made her feel like a stranger was in her mind and she didn't like that feeling.

"Did I give you information you wanted?" she asked, sighing.

"You provided us with quite a bit on how he works and what he's capable of," Agent Phelps said. "But we need more. Did he ever say anything to you while you were being held?"

Nancy scoffed at him. "Are you not paying attention to what I've been telling you?" she asked. She didn't wait for him to answer. "I don't remember _anything_ from the past two weeks. There is nothing new that I could tell you that you don't already know."

Agent Phelps blushed with embarrassment but quickly recovered. "We really need for you to remember," he said gently.

"And what about me?" she asked. "Don't you think I want to remember? It is _killing_ me not knowing what happened to me. I really wish I could help you, Agents, I really do. But until I get my memory back, there is nothing I can do for you."

Agent Phelps shook his head. "Maybe there is something."

Nancy just looked at him, annoyed.

"The Chicago Museum of Modern Art and History is having their gala tomorrow night so they can unveil _The Majesty Emeralds _exhibit," Agent Phelps explained quickly. "If you were there, maybe it would help jog your memory."

"I don't see how," Nancy said. "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm sitting in a hospital bed."

"I am very well aware of that, Miss Drew," he said, crossly.

"Besides, if I've already given you the information you needed, I really don't see what else you need from me," Nancy said. "You're the FBI, so why don't you arrest him?"

"We have no evidence against him right now," Agent Phelps said. "We have no idea when he's going after the emeralds. We were hoping he let something slip to you."

"Again, I can't help you," Nancy said. "And Randy wouldn't be stupid enough to show up at the gala tomorrow night."

Frank finally spoke up from where he had been sitting quietly. "I'm not letting that bastard have another shot at her," he said coldly.

"Then you could accompany her if it will make you feel better," Agent Phelps, said keeping his eye on Nancy. "And your brother, as well," he added as an afterthought.

"What would make me feel better is if the two of you would go and leaver her alone," Frank said.

Agent Phelps leveled his gaze at Frank. "As I said before Mr. Hardy, you have no say in this matter."

Frank could feel the anger boiling inside of him. He would like more than anything to wipe that smirk off the agent's face. And he would have done it if he wouldn't be arrested for it as soon as he did it. So instead, he sat back in his chair and glared out the window.

There was a knock on the door and everyone looked as Doctor Troy came into the room. His smile slightly wavered when he saw the two agents.

"How are you feeling today, Miss Drew?" he asked, brushing past the two agents.

"A lot better," she admitted.

"Good," he said, smiling at her. He picked up her chart, glanced over it, and his smile became even bigger as he looked back up at her. "I have wonderful news."

Frank quickly rose from his seat to join Nancy.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I don't see any reason why you can't go home today," he said. "If you feel up to it, that is."

"No offense, Doctor, but I am more than ready," she said, smiling.

Doctor Troy chuckled. "None taken," he said. "Let me get your discharge papers ready and then you will be a free woman."

He passed another glance at the agents and quickly left the room.

Nancy didn't miss the smile that was forming on Agent Phelps' face. "I guess that means you can help us."

Nancy narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't appreciate you barging into my room and demanding me to help you catch a guy that I never want to face again. I'm not one to be forced to do anything," she said. "I'll let you know what I decide."

"But Miss Drew—" Agent Phelps said, the smile quickly fading.

"I said I would let you know," Nancy said coldly. "It's all you're going to get from me right now."

Agent Phelps looked like he was about to say something else but Agent Brennan finally spoke up. "Please call us and let us know what you decide," he said, handing her a card.

"I will," Nancy said, glancing at the card.

Frank watched the door close behind the agents, his anger going down a slight notch. "I told them to leave you alone, Nan," he said softly.

"Don't worry about it," Nancy said, putting the card down on the table.

"Are you going to help them?" he asked, cringing as he waited for the answer.

Nancy gave him a small smile. "I was telling them the truth. I'm not sure if I want to get involved again or not."

Frank chuckled and shook his head.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked, shooting him a look.

"You," he said, his brown eyes sparkling.

"What did I do?" she asked.

Frank let out a defeated sigh. "You know you can't stay away from this, Nan. You want to know what happened to you and you won't rest until you find out."

It was Nancy's turn to chuckle. "Am I that transparent?"

"Actually, no," Frank admitted, honestly. "But it helps that I know you very well. And don't worry, Nancy—I'm not going to stop you. But I'm also not going to let you go about this alone."

Nancy flashed him a radiant smile. "I never expected it any other way, Hardy."

Frank smiled and kissed her softly. "So, what do you want to do first?"

"I want to go to Johnny Allen's house," Nancy said.

Frank frowned. "Why would you want to go there?" he asked. "I'm sure his family is preparing for his funeral."

"You said he wanted to talk to you and Joe right before he was murdered," Nancy said. "Maybe he told his family something that could help."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Frank asked.

"No, I'm not sure," Nancy said. "I'll be as civil as I can be, but I have got to get some answers."

Frank nodded as the door opened and Doctor Troy came back in, holding a clipboard. He explained the discharging process to Nancy, told her to take it easy for a while, gave her a couple of prescriptions for pain killers and antibiotics, and told her to come back in a week for a check-up.

A nurse came in and unhooked the IVs and as soon as she and Doctor Troy left the room, Nancy threw back the covers.

"I take it you're ready to go," Frank said amused.

"Get Joe on the phone and tell him what's going on," Nancy said, grabbing the clothes Frank had brought. "We're getting started as soon as I get dressed."

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**Author's Note: Okay, you are probably questioning why Nancy would want to intrude on a family that is grieving, but in her mind, she wants to know what happened to her because she wants closure for herself. The only way she'll get it is if she talks to the people who she thinks may help her.**

**Some of you probably hate Agent Phelps and I would totally agree with you. He is a fun character and I always love throwing in someone that my readers will hate.**

**Let me know what you think!**


	13. Good Grief

13

"Are we just going to waltz into the museum as soon as it closes?" Barry asked. He was sitting in a chair across from Randy, who was occupying himself by digging under his nails with the tip of his knife.

Randy finally looked up and let a smile play on his lips as he glanced at Barry. He really was starting to question himself if the right brother had been killed. "Why would we do that when we can get our hands on the emeralds tomorrow night at the gala?" he asked, arching a brow.

Barry's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "Are you crazy!?"

The smile stayed on Randy's face. "That's a question you would have to ask someone else."

"There's going to be security all over the place," Barry said.

The smile vanished from Randy's face. He took a deep breath and brought the knife down onto his desk as hard as he could. Barry watched it quiver slightly, a lump rising in his throat.

"I am very well aware of everything that is going happen at the gala. After all, Nancy provided us with that very pertinent information," Randy said. "I like to make a spectacle of things and what better way than this?"

"How are we supposed to get in?" Barry asked. "It's not like they're going to let just anyone in. It's by invitation only."

"Miguel Sanchez has already taken care of that for us," Randy answered, as if he were talking to a dull child. "He may be a reputed crime lord, but he does still have a lot of pull. Besides, he just made a very sizeable contribution to the museum."

"What about weapons?" Barry asked. "Security will be tight and they'll be scanning us as we come in."

"Yes, they will," Randy agreed. "Which is why I've already had them smuggled into the museum."

He grabbed the knife from the desk and began playing with it again. He barely glanced up at Barry as he continued to speak. "Now, if you don't have anymore questions…"

"Just one more," Barry said nervously, watching the knife.

"You better make it a good one, Barry," Randy said, finally losing his patience with the man.

"What about Nancy Drew?" he asked.

"What about her?" Randy looked back up at him and this time the smile on his face was genuine. "It wouldn't be a gala without her."

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"Are we sure about this?" Joe asked from the backseat of Nancy's blue Mustang.

"Yes," Nancy answered for what must have been the tenth time since she and Frank picked up Joe.

Frank passed a glance at his brother in the rearview mirror. Joe just nodded and glanced at the back of Nancy's head.

"I saw that," she said.

"What?" Joe asked, innocently.

"You know what," Nancy said.

"Geez…did that head injury give you eyes in the back of your head?" he joked.

"No," Nancy answered. "I've always had them."

Joe just chuckled appreciatively.

"I know this isn't the best idea in the world," she admitted. "But as I told Frank—I need to get some answers and I just can't wait for them when it's convenient for them."

"I'm all for stirring up trouble, but while a family is grieving?" Joe asked.

Nancy turned around in her seat to face Joe. "What about you, Frank, and Dad?" she countered. "You three have been grieving me for the past week and a half and no one would give you the answers you were seeking except for one guy. And look what happened to him—he was murdered before he could tell you guys _anything_."

"No arguments there," Joe agreed.

"So, what's the problem then?" Nancy asked.

Joe just looked at her and remained silent.

"If you're that uncomfortable about it, Joe, you could always wait in the car," Nancy suggested.

"And miss all the possible fireworks?" he asked. "No thanks."

Frank scoffed, but kept his eyes on the road.

"What are you scoffing at, man-of-little-words?" Joe demanded.

"Nothing," Frank said, smiling. "Nothing at all."

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of a modest house in a quiet neighborhood. All three got out as one and walked up the short walkway to the door. Frank rang the doorbell and they waited until it was opened by an attractive woman with red-rimmed eyes.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a tired voice.

Nancy felt sorry for the petite woman that was standing in front of them. She knew she was about to tread in forbidden territory, but she couldn't let that stop her.

"Mrs. Allen?" she asked.

The woman nodded her head.

"My name is Nancy Drew, and this is Frank Hardy and his brother, Joe," Nancy said. "We're terribly sorry for your loss, but may we come inside for a few minutes and talk to you?"

"Can this wait?" she asked. "I'm not really up for any company right now."

Nancy was about to say something when Joe stepped in front of her. "I know what it's like to lose someone you love," he said gently. "I know that the only thing you want to do right now is slam that door in our faces and shut yourself off to the world. You have to believe me when I say we wouldn't be here if it wasn't absolutely important."

She stared at the three of them for a long moment and then slowly opened the door wider to let them in. "You'll have to excuse the mess," she said, sniffling. "I just haven't had the chance to clean up since Johnny's death."

"It's okay," Nancy said as they followed her to the living room. If were not for the things thrown here and there, she would have sworn the inside of the house looked as if it came straight out of a decorating magazine.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

The three detectives shook their heads and sat down on the couch. She nodded and took a seat on the armchair that was across from them.

"Mrs. Allen—" Nancy began, but she stopped her.

"Please call me Livvie," she said.

"Livvie," Nancy said. "We need to talk to you about your husband."

"Johnny?" Livvie asked, confused. "What do you need to know about Johnny?"

"I think he called me the day he was murdered," Frank spoke up. "My brother and I were supposed to meet him at the River Heights Marina. We're actually the ones who found your husband."

"Why was Johnny meeting you?" Livvie asked. "Did he even know you?"

"No," Frank said, shaking his head. "He said he had information about Nancy."

Livvie turned her head and focused her attention on Nancy. Then recognition seemed to flicker across her face. "You're the woman that's been all over the news," she said.

"Yes," Nancy said.

Livvie shook her head. "What does any of this have to do with Johnny?"

"We think he either saw something or he was part of Nancy's disappearance," Frank said gently.

Livvie flew out of her seat. "That's ridiculous! Johnny would never do anything like that!"

"I know this is hard to listen to but it's the only reasons we can come up with for him wanting to meet my brother and I," Joe said.

Livvie shook her head, refusing to believe what they were telling her.

"Had your husband been away from the house any more than usual in the past week or so?" Frank asked carefully.

"He went to work and sometimes he would hang out with his brother, Barry," Livvie explained. "But that's not unusual because they had a very close relationship."

"Had your husband been acting any differently lately?" Nancy asked.

Livvie started to shake her head, but stopped midway. "He was acting distracted lately, but that could have been contributed to any number of things."

"Did he ever say anything to you?" Nancy asked.

"No," Livvie said, growing frustrated.

Nancy, Frank, and Joe glanced at each other uneasily. Before they could do or say anything else, the doorbell rang.

"Liv, you in here?" a male voice asked.

"In the living room!" Livvie called back.

"Whose car is that in the—" Barry stopped when he saw the three detectives sitting on the couch. Nancy could have sworn he slightly paled when his eyes rested on her. But he quickly focused his attention back to Livvie.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"They're here asking questions about Johnny," Livvie said.

Barry looked at them "What kind of questions?" he asked suspiciously.

"They think he had something to do with this woman's disappearance," she said, nodding at Nancy.

Barry stepped closer to them. I'm Johnny's brother, Barry. What are you wanting to know about him?"

"We believe your brother called us the day he was murdered," Frank said. "Do you know anything about that?"

Barry sighed. "I wasn't my brother's keeper. I don't know anything my brother did when he wasn't with me."

Nancy intently studied the man that was standing in front of them. A voice in the back of her mind was nagging her but she couldn't figure out why. He must have realized that she was staring at him, because he turned his attention to her, his eyes boring into hers.

"Do you have a problem?" he asked gruffly.

Nancy snapped out of her reverie and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I just thought I knew you from somewhere, but my mind must be playing games with me."

Barry studied her for a few minutes longer and then turned his attention back to the brothers. "Are you finished with Livvie? I think you've put her through enough."

The three of them got the hint and stood up. "We're really sorry to have bothered you," Frank apologized.

"Again, we're sorry for your loss," Nancy said to Livvie.

Livvie nodded and the three detectives walked out of the house.

"There's something more going on," Joe commented as they made their way to Nancy's car.

"I don't trust that guy," Frank agreed. "I think there's a lot more to him." He glanced at Nancy who seemed to be lost in her thoughts, once again.

"You okay, Nan?" he asked as he opened his door.

"Yeah," Nancy said as she opened her own door. "I just can't shake this feeling that I've seen that guy before."

"Do you think your memory's trying to tell you something?" Joe asked.

Nancy shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows? He may be just some guy I've passed on the street or something." She got into the car and shut the door.

Frank and Joe exchanged a quick glance and got into the car.

"Something about that guy just doesn't sit right with me," Joe commented.

"Me neither," Frank said in agreement. "When we get back to the house, I think I'm going to call up Chicago and see if he's in the system. Maybe then we'll catch a break."

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**Author's Note: Well, as usual, let me know what you think. Another update in about a week!**

**Oh, and HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!!!! **


	14. The Shot Heard Around the World

**Author's Note: I've noticed that I have posted my last two chapters when there has been heavy posting traffic, so if you haven't read my last couple of chapters, please do so you can keep up with what is going on.**

**I also thank ya'll for reading my little Halloween story. It was something that I just came up with and I thought it would be nice to take away from my morbidness. And you really seemed to enjoy it and that's great! (By the way, thanks for pointing out that I had a couple of mistakes in it…they got by me somehow!) I had to post it a couple of days after Halloween because I was taking my sis trick-or-treating that night and my new niece was born on Halloween!**

**Finally, this chapter is a little short, but I had to end it off where I did in order to build up excitement. As always, tell me what you think!**

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Randy Wolfe rolled his eyes as his door flew open and Barry Allen stormed in.

"You know, these dramatic entrances of yours are really starting to grate on my nerves," Randy said.

"I'm sorry," Barry said quickly. "But there's something I need to talk to you about."  
"By the way, how was the funeral?" Randy asked, smiling. "I would have gone myself to pay my respects, but we both know that wouldn't have been wise."

Barry shrugged. "There wasn't that many people there anyway," he said miserably.

"So," Randy sighed, not really caring that it bothered Barry. "What was so important that it couldn't wait until later?"

"We have a problem," Barry said anxiously.

"What kind of problem?" Randy asked with feigned interest. He picked up a rubber band and started playing with it absently.

"A big problem," Barry said.

Randy fixed him with a withering glare. "If I wanted childish answers, I would talk to my niece," he said, gruffly. "What kind of problem?" he asked again.

"I went to Livvie's before the funeral and was met by the Hardy brothers and Nancy Drew," he said.

The rubber band flew across the room. "Did she recognize you?" he asked, slowly.

"I don't think so," Barry said quickly. "She kept looking at me, but if she remembered who I was, she didn't let on."

"Damn it," Randy swore softly. "Why were they there?"

"They said they thought Johnny may have talked to Livvie," Barry explained.

"And did he?" Randy asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Not to my knowledge," Barry said.

"Are you sure?" Randy asked.

"She seemed really unnerved by their visit," Barry said. "So I really don't think Johnny said anything to her."

Randy nodded, not entirely convinced.

"So, what do we do about the detectives?" Barry asked.

Randy let a smile tug on his lips. "We send them a message."

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Nancy lay back on the sofa at her father's house and closed her eyes. While she did feel ten times better, the injuries she had sustained in the past week were still making her feel like hell. She opened one eye when she felt pressure at the end of the sofa and saw Joe perched, with a sandwich in each hand.

"What do you want?" she asked, closing her eyes again.

"Here, you need to eat something," he said, offering her one of the sandwiches.

"I'm really not that hungry," Nancy said.

"You look like Death," Joe said, taking a bite of his own sandwich.

Nancy opened her eyes. "And you look like a pig," she said, watching him. "By the way, aren't you supposed to be making me feel better?"

"Oh, no," Joe said, shaking his head. "That's Frank's department. And believe me, I don't want to know how he does that." He offered the sandwich to her again as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Now eat. We have to have you in tip-top shape if we're going to catch our bad guys."

Nancy rolled her eyes, but took the sandwich from him anyway. His eyes remained on her until she finally took a bite. "Happy?" she asked, annoyed.

"Getting there," Joe said, cheerfully.

"So, where is that brother of yours?" she asked, swallowing down the bite.

"He was on the phone with Chicago last I knew," he said.

"He's really worried," Nancy said softly.

"It's the only way he stays when it concerns you," Joe said. "He's been that way since the day you two met."

Nancy smiled softly as she took another bite. "So, what about you?" she asked. "You sure are missing a lot of your classes by sticking around here baby-sitting me."

"Do you want me to go back home?" Joe asked, looking at her.

Nancy shook her head. "I didn't say that."

Joe shrugged. "The good thing is that the semester just began, so I can get my money back. I figure I'll just take off this semester and start again in the spring."

"Joe, you don't have to do that," Nancy said.

"I know, but I want to," Joe said. "I'm not going anywhere until this thing with you is settled."

Nancy smiled at him and he returned it.

"You really can be sweet when you want to be," she said. "Thanks, Joe."

"Don't mention it," he said. "It's the least I can do for my future sister-in-law."

Nancy reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She really was glad that Joe was sticking around. While she loved Frank more than anything in the world, he was really bad about being overprotective and too serious about everything. Joe, on the other hand, could always find the humor in everything and keep the mood light.

"Am I interrupting anything here?" Frank asked, coming into the living room.

"Yes, actually," Joe said.

Frank raised his eyebrows at his brother.

"We were into minute fifteen of the staring game," he deadpanned.

Frank chuckled and threw a small pillow at him. Joe swatted it away harmlessly before it could hit him in the face.

"Did you find out anything?" Nancy asked Frank as he sat in the recliner.

Frank nodded and smiled. "Our new friend seems to have had quite a few run-ins with the police."

"What kind of run-ins?" Joe asked.

"Petty stuff, really," Frank admitted. "Theft, forgery, auto burglary, arson. He's only been skimming the surface of the criminal world."

"Should we be concerned about him?" Nancy asked worriedly.

"We'll be on the look-out for him," Frank said. "We don't really have anything to tie him to what's happened to you except for the fact that he happens to he Johnny's brother."

"I still think he's mixed up in this somehow," Joe said.

"He may be," Frank said in agreement. "The only thing we can do is to keep an eye on him and see if he does anything."

Joe was about to say something else when the squeal of brakes filled the air.

"What the…?" Joe asked as he got up from where he was sitting. He went to the window and his eyes widened with what he saw. He quickly turned around to Frank and Nancy.

"What?" Frank and Nancy asked, confused.

"Get down!" he shouted.

Joe barely had any time to yank Nancy to the floor before the explosion of gunshots tore through the living room.

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**Not another cliffie!!! Go ahead...tell me how much you hate me for it.**


	15. Keep Myself Awake

**Author's Note: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews from the last chapter. I really loved reading them and they made me very happy. I did have one review that said they were tired of the background information that I was giving and wanted the action to start already. The reason I give you the background information is so that you know where the story comes from and it feels as if it has some kind of depth. If I had gone straight into the action, then this story would have been a lot shorter and would have been a disappointment. I could not do that to the people who read my stories or myself because it would just be a complete waste of our times. I do appreciate your review and I really do hope that you continue reading this story.**

**This chapter is a little bit longer than my previous one so that should make you guys happy! Sorry I didn't have it posted sooner, but my brother had an accident at work and he was in the hospital for the last few days. (But I'm glad to say that he's doing great now!)**

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Randy answered his phone on the first ring.

"Did they get the message?" he asked as way of greeting.

"I don't think I could have made it any clearer for them," Barry answered.

"Good," Randy said. "Now get away from there before someone spots you."

Randy hung up the phone and smiled to himself. If anything, he certainly did know how to convey a message.

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Nancy wasn't sure how long it was when the gunfire stopped and silence finally greeted her ears. She slowly raised her head and saw Joe stirring beside her. Satisfied that he could take care of himself, she slowly lifted herself up from the floor and looked around for Frank. She finally saw him on the floor near the recliner he had been sitting in.

"Nancy, what are you doing up?" Frank hissed at her.

Her concern for him quickly turned into annoyance. She rolled her eyes and said, "Relax, Frank. The shooting has stopped."

"Relax, she tells me," Frank muttered. Then he saw her make her way to the busted out window. "Are you crazy? What are you doing?"

"You stress too much, Hardy," Nancy said over her shoulder.

Joe stood up and nodded at Nancy as he brushed himself off. "You know, I tell him that all the time, and yet, the boy still refuses to listen to me."

"It's great that you two can joke about this," Frank said, annoyed. "It really is."

Nancy just smiled as she eased the tattered curtains back. She carefully peeked out the window and turned to the brothers a moment later. "The coast is clear," she said.

She stood up from her crouching position and took a look around the disheveled living room. "Dad is going to flip when he sees this," she said, sighing.

"I think the living room will be the least of his worries when he finds out someone decided to use us as target practice," Frank pointed out.

"I better call B.D. about this," Joe said. He was pulling out his cell phone when the sound of approaching sirens filled the air.

"Sounds like the neighbors beat you to it," Nancy said. She and the Hardys walked outside just as two police cruisers and an ambulance pulled up. The first to emerge from the cars was B.D. Hawkins.

"I don't know why we don't have the city build the police station in your front yard," B.D. cracked as he walked up to them.

"Well, gee, B.D., that would create a problem because then people wouldn't be able to attack me anytime they wanted," Nancy said in mock seriousness.

"And you're joking about this," B.D. said in frustration, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thank you," Frank muttered gratefully.

B.D. smiled at Frank. "So, who wants to tell me what happened here?" he asked.

"Hey, we were minding our own business when someone decided to come along and redecorate the living room," Joe said, holding up his hands.

B.D. shot him a look that said he wasn't amused. "And who have the three of you pissed off now?"

Joe was on a roll. "The usual suspects," he said.

Nancy chuckled at the annoyed look on B.D.'s face. "It has to be whoever went after me in the first place."

"The charming Mr. Wolfe," B.D. said nodding his head.

"Actually more deadly than charming," Nancy said.

B.D. was finally about to lose his nerve when Frank intervened. "It could also be due to the fact that we had just finished talking to Johnny Allen's wife."

"What were you doing over there?" B.D. asked.

"We were hoping that maybe Johnny had told her something before he was killed," Frank said.

"And did he?" B.D. asked.

"She doesn't know anything," Nancy said, not bothering to mask her disappointment. "But while we were there, Johnny's brother decided to make a guest appearance."

B.D. looked surprised. "Johnny Allen has a brother?"

"Yep," Joe said. "And he didn't seem too happy that we were there, either."

"I'm pretty sure if Livvie hadn't been there, he would have showed us how unhappy he was," Frank said.

"Do you have a name for him?" B.D. asked. "I'll check him out as soon as I get back to the station."

"Already beat you to it," Frank said. "Barry Allen is definitely in the system but it's just for petty stuff."

"I always forget that you're not an amateur detective anymore," B.D. said. "So, do you think he was behind this fiasco?" he asked, pointing to the house, which was slowly filling with crime scene techs.

"Well, it wouldn't be Randy," Nancy said. "He's one who typically doesn't like to get his hands dirty until it's absolutely necessary."

"So, did the three of you get a look at who took the shots at you?" B.D. asked.

"That would be a question for Joe," Nancy said.

B.D. turned his full attention to Joe.

Joe shrugged. "All I saw was a busted up Olds and the gun poking out of it. I barely had time to yell at Frank and Nancy before he shot up the living room."

"So you didn't get a good look at him?" B.D. asked, double-checking.

Joe shrugged helplessly. "Sorry."

"Do you know how many shooters there were?" B.D. asked.

Again Joe shrugged. "I saw only one, but I can't be entirely sure."

B.D. nodded. "We're going to see what we can find here. I suggest the three of you find a hotel room for the night."

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"So, your dad seemed okay with the damage to the house," Frank said, after he and Nancy had settled into their room. Joe was already in his room, watching a football game. They had checked into the River Heights Bed and Breakfast after spending the last few hours at Nancy's house, trying to answer as many questions as they could.

Nancy gave Frank a small, tired smile. "I don't think anything can surprise Dad anymore. Especially when it concerns me."

"I think you still have a few surprises up your sleeve," Frank said.

"Let's hope not," Nancy said, laughing. "I'm not sure my Dad's heart could take it." She sat down on the bed and let out a tired sigh.

"You okay?" Frank asked, sitting next to her.

"Just tired," Nancy said, leaning against him.

Frank wrapped his arms around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. "You really should take it easy."

Nancy sighed. "Do you really have to ruin this moment with comments like that?"

"I'm just concerned about you, Nan," Frank said. "I couldn't take it if something else happened to you."

"I promise to take it easy as soon as we figure out everything," Nancy said.

Frank glanced at her. "Is this about to go somewhere I'm not going to like?"

"Maybe," she said sheepishly.

He fixed her with another look.

Nancy sighed. "We have to go to that gala tomorrow night."

"Yep, this is exactly where I didn't want this conversation to go," Frank said, lying back on the bed.

Nancy lay down beside him and looked at him. "The last thing I want to do is give Agent Phelps any satisfaction at all. And while I don't have any guarantees that Randy will be there, I also don't have any that he won't."

"So you're willing to risk yourself _again _for this psycho," Frank grumbled as he turned his gaze to the ceiling.

Nancy rolled her eyes and turned his head to face her once again. "I'm doing this so we can move on. The sooner we bring him down, the sooner we can get back to us."

Frank cracked a smile. "I think I like the sound of that last part."

Nancy chuckled. "I bet you do."

Frank propped himself up on his elbow and bent down to kiss her deeply. "You have any ideas in that brilliant mind of yours of things we could do when this is over?"

Nancy smiled playfully at him. "I'm sure I could think of a thing or two."

"Really?" Frank asked. "Like what?"

"You know, I think I may want to take an actual vacation," Nancy said.

"That sounds great," Frank said. "You have a place in particular you would like to go?"

"I'm gonna have to get back to you on that one, Mr. Hardy," Nancy said.

Frank smiled and gave her another kiss.

Nancy returned the kiss and then gently pushed him away. "I hate to break this incredible moment, but I should call our favorite agents and let them know about tomorrow night."

"They can wait," Frank protested, grabbing her hand.

Nancy smiled. "You really don't like them, do you?"

Frank let go of her hand and lay back on the bed again. "Just Agent Phelps. If I didn't know any better, I would say the agent has something permanently lodged up his ass."

"Did Frank Hardy just make a joke?" Nancy asked in mock surprise.

"Well, you don't have to be a detective to figure that out," Frank said, dryly.

Nancy laughed as she hopped off the bed and went towards the phone that was located in the hallway.

"Hurry up and get off the phone with them!" Frank called as she was about to open the door.

"Patience, Frank," she said as she closed the door behind her.

She walked into the deserted hallway and made her way to the private phone booth that was located near the stairs. One thing Nancy had to admit, this bed and breakfast really loved to stick to its old charm. They strictly believed in the privacy of their guests, so they had refused to put phones in the room.

Nancy dialed the number that was on the card the agents gave her and after being on hold for ten minutes, she was finally connected to Agent Brennan. Nancy said a silent "thank you" that she didn't have to talk to Agent Phelps.

"Miss Drew, how are you?" Agent Brennan's warm voice greeted her.

"Can I be honest with you?" Nancy asked.

"Please," Agent Brennan said.

"If one more person asks me that, I think I may start swinging," Nancy said.

Agent Brennan chuckled. "Fair enough," he said.

Nancy considered telling him about the shooting, but thought better of it. The River Heights Police were handling it, so there was really no point in bothering the FBI.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about my partner," Agent Brennan's voice cut into her thoughts.

"It's not your fault he's an ass," Nancy said. "Manners must be something they don't teach at Quantico."

Agent Brennan chuckled again. "They do, but I guess Jack decided to skip that day," he joked.

"Again, it's not your fault," Nancy said.

"He just lets his ambition get the better of him. This case with Sanchez is the biggest one of his career," Agent Brennan explained. "He brings him down he's pretty much guaranteed a big promotion."

"What about you?" Nancy asked.

"I'm still kind of a newbie around here," he said. "The most I'll get is a pat on the back."

"I'm sorry," Nancy said and she meant it. She really felt bad for the agent on the other end of the phone. It couldn't be easy to be paired with a man who only cared about his ego and not about the people he was hurting along the way to achieve his goals.

"Oh, well. You didn't call to hear me gripe," he said. "What can I help you with, Miss Drew?"

"Please call me Nancy," she said. "And I was calling to let you know that I'll be attending the gala tomorrow night."

"You know you don't have to do this if you don't feel comfortable with it," Agent Brennan said. "What my partner was saying to you earlier was a load of crap."

"I know," Nancy said smiling. "But I want to get this over with."  
"Okay," he said. "You won't have to worry about anything. We're going to have undercover agents all over the place."

"That's good to know," Nancy said.

"I'll make sure to get your names on the list before tomorrow night," he assured her.

They talked for a few minutes more and Nancy finally hung up with him. She walked back to her room and saw Frank still lying on the bed, this time with his eyes closed.

"Took you long enough," he grumbled.

"I was talking to Agent Brennan," Nancy said. "He really isn't that bad of a guy."

"So, are you coming to bed now?" Frank asked, opening one eye to look at her.

Nancy found herself yawning. "Yeah. I'm pretty beat."

After taking a shower and getting dressed, she finally climbed into bed next to Frank. She barely had time to get settled before he was wrapping his arms around her.

She found herself smiling as she closed her eyes.

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Nancy felt the darkness suffocating her once again. She just wished she could claw her way out of it, but it surrounded her everywhere she looked.

Just when she found herself giving up the fight, she heard a door open and all of a sudden light poured into the room. Lifting herself up to her feet, she quickly ran to the door before it would have a chance to close on her again. She was just stepping through it when two men grabbed her arms and began pulling her down a long hallway. She tried to see their faces, but it was like she was staring into two dark abysses.

Finally another door opened, seemingly on its own accord, and she was pushed roughly inside. She turned to see who had pushed her in, but the door had already closed again. She ran to the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. She beat on it as hard as she could and tried to scream, but no sounds came out.

Nancy turned around and finally noticed a chair that was sitting in the middle of the room, with its back turned towards her. She cautiously made her way to it and hesitated slightly before reaching her hand out towards it.

_Get a grip, Drew!_ she told herself sharply.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the chair to face her.

She screamed as Randy Wolfe's voice filled her ears.

_"Miss me, blue eyes?"_

Nancy bolted upright in her bed, her chest heaving and sweat dripping down her back. She winced when she felt Frank shift beside her.

"You okay?" he asked, sleepily.

Nancy nodded and kept her voice calm, even though she felt anything but. "Yeah, it was just a nightmare."

"You sure?"

Nancy nodded again. "I'm fine," she said, trying to give him an encouraging smile in the moonlit room.

Frank didn't look convinced, but he turned over and went back to sleep anyway. Nancy was glad he didn't push the subject any further; she really didn't want to go through this right now. When her heartbeat finally began to beat a steady rhythm, she lay back down and stared up at the ceiling. She had a feeling that sleep wasn't going to come too easy for the rest of the night.

What was bothering her was why she was so freaked out by the dream. She had dreams like that all the time, especially during cases, but they never got to her like this. There was only the one time and that had been five years ago when she went through the drama with Dominic Shepard.

She shuddered and quickly pushed away that thought.

_So what was different now? What am I letting this one get to me so much?_

_You've just been through a hell of a traumatic experience, Drew, _she told herself. _And all this talk about Randy hasn't been helping._

Nancy sighed and gave up trying to figure it out. She would drive herself insane if she kept dwelling on it.

Turning onto her side to face the window, she decided to give sleep a last ditch effort.

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**I am going to try to get another chapter posted up before Thanksgiving Holidays because I will be going to Texas that week and won't have a chance to do it then. So, be on the lookout for the next chapter!**

**Oh, and do me a favor and let me know what you think…please.**


	16. A Gala to Remember

**Author's Note: Okay, another update! Woo-hoo! But unfortunately that means it's the last update until after Thanksgiving holidays, meaning I won't be updating until around November 27th.**

**So as usual, let me know what you think!**

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"Is everything ready, Señor Wolfe?" Miguel Sanchez's heavily accented Spanish voice asked.

Randy sighed and felt his annoyance level rising once again, just as it did every time Miguel talked to him. "It will happen in a few hours when the gala is underway."  
"I still do not think it is wise for you to take the emeralds when so many people will be around," Miguel said, his voice tinged with disapproval.

"I'm not really concerned about your thoughts or feelings, Miguel," Randy said. "You hired me to do a job and I'm going to do it my way."

"And if you are caught?" Miguel asked. "What good would you or the emeralds do me then?"

"I'm not sure. But I am sure you could throw enough money around in order to get your way," Randy answered smoothly.

Randy smiled to himself as he heard Miguel take in a slow, steadying breath. Miguel Sanchez didn't like to be disrespected and he was going out of his way to give it to him in full force.

"You really should learn some respect," Miguel said slowly.

"You didn't hire me to prance around your fragile ego," Randy snapped. "I'll call you when we have the emeralds." He hung up the phone before Miguel could chide him any further.

Randy really did hate Miguel Sanchez a little more every single time he talked to him. _It must be so easy to sit back and let everyone else do your dirty work for you_, he thought miserably.

Maybe it was time to change things up a little bit—really shake up Miguel Sanchez. But that would have to wait until after the heist and he got to Miami.

He could already see the start of a brilliant plan formulating in his mind.

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Miguel Sanchez stared at his phone in pure disgust. _How could that insolent fool think he could disrespect me like that!_ He was the one who gave Randy Wolfe a second chance and he sure as hell could take it away from him.

The fact that he had given Randy a second chance was something that still confused him a little bit, because it was something that he didn't do. Never in any of his twenty years of business dealings had he given someone a second chance. If a person messed up or screwed him over, they never got another chance to make it up to him. It was the way he operated his business—until he had met with the impressionable Randy Wolfe.

It was now a decision he was starting to regret.

But if he wanted his hands on those emeralds, he had to have the best man in the business. And that person, unfortunately for him, was Randy Wolfe. After all, he had successfully stolen that cache of emeralds in Rio seven years ago. It had been unfortunate for him that he had been thwarted by a teenage girl detective before he could deliver to him in Miami.

The thought of the girl detective still angered him to this day. She had been the reason he couldn't get his hands on the emeralds in the first place. And to think she was still causing havoc for him again after all these years.

But she would be taken care of once and for all—he would see to it himself. A smile came to his face as he thought of her. He hadn't had to kill a woman in years—it would give him great pleasure to get to do it again.

As he leaned back in his leather chair, the thought of Randy Wolfe's behavior was still bothering him. Something needed to be done with him as well.

Miguel picked up the phone and dialed another number. He barely allowed the other person to answer before he spoke.

"I think we may have a problem with Randy Wolfe," Miguel said. "Keep an eye on him and tell me if he tries anything."

He listened to the other person and then hung up the phone. At least now he knew he was covered if Randy did decide to try anything.

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"Miss Drew, I really do appreciate you coming to this gala tonight," Agent Phelps said as the black stretch limousine pulled up in front of the Chicago Museum of Modern Art and History.

Nancy didn't miss the smug look that flashed across the agent's face. And she wasn't going to miss the opportunity to make it go away.

"Agent Phelps, let's get one think straight right now," Nancy said, her voice uncharacteristically cold. "I'm not doing this for you, so this superior attitude of yours can stop right now. The only reason I am here is because of me. I'm not here for the FBI; I'm not here to catch your bad guy. I am here in hopes that I can remember what happened to me."

Agent Phelps just stared at her, speechless. Nancy saw that Frank, Joe, and Agent Brennan were also staring at her, but for a different reason; they were trying their best not to smile. Before Agent Phelps even had the chance to recover, she opened her door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Frank and Joe hurried out of the car and soon were on each side of her.

"Frank, have I told you how much I love your fiancée?" Joe asked, nudging Nancy. "She's feisty."

Nancy nudged Joe back and let a victory smile form on her face.

"I guess you let him know how you felt," Frank said.

"Don't tell me that you're upset that I did that," Nancy said as they made their way up the stone stairs. She sent a quick glance behind her shoulder and saw the two agents talking and keeping a safe distance behind them.

"Are you kidding?" Frank asked, chuckling. "I thought you were being too easy on him. You could have let him have it a little more."

Nancy laughed as she took his hand. "Give it some time. I'm sure Agent Phelps will do something else to make me angry."

"That's my girl," Frank said, kissing her hand.

They were stopped at the door by a couple of security guards. The guards scanned each of them to make sure they weren't carrying any weapons. Just as the guards were finished with Nancy and the brothers, Agents Phelps and Brennan flashed their badges and they were let into the museum.

"You have nothing to worry about. We have several agents, including myself and Agent Brennan who will be keeping an eye on you, Miss Drew," Agent Phelps said, seeming to have regained his composure.

"You still think something's going to happen tonight?" Joe asked. He glanced around the lobby and watched as more guests started to filter in.

"We don't know what to expect," Agent Phelps said. "Which means we can expect anything."

"So where are they supposed to be unveiling these emeralds?" Joe asked.

"The main exhibit room," Agent Phelps answered. "They're not letting anyone in there until they're ready to unveil them. It's just an added security measure." He looked towards the door as two men waved him over. "Excuse me," he said and left the group.

Agent Brennan watched his partner and sighed. He then looked at Nancy and the brothers. "I better do find the curator and see if everything's okay," he said. He gave Nancy's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Be careful."

Nancy nodded and Agent Brennan walked away.

"Those agents really are wound tight," Joe commented. A waiter with a tray full of champagne stopped in front of them. They each took a glass and the waiter moved to another cluster of guests.

"They really must think something's going to go down tonight," Nancy said as she took a sip of the champagne.

"I just don't see how anyone in their right mind could think they were going to get away with the emeralds with this many people around," Frank said.

"That's the thing about Randy," Nancy said, glancing at the brothers. "He never was one to play by the rules."

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Randy looked at his watch and cursed under his breath. In fifteen minutes the Majesty Emeralds would be unveiled to the hundred or so guests that now filled up the museum and he still hadn't heard anything from his two guys on the inside. He was extremely surprised that Barry hadn't called yet to bitch about something. In fact, if anything, he had been uncharacteristically quiet for the last few hours.

Sitting in an unmarked car across the street, he leaned back in his seat and let out a long sigh. The night hadn't been a total waste; he did, after all, get to catch a glimpse at Nancy. He had to admit she looked radiant in her simple black dress. But then again, she had always been radiant.

If only she wasn't surrounded by her two designated protectors. It's not that he couldn't take care of them, if the need arose; it just would make things a lot simpler if they weren't around. _Oh, yes…he could definitely take care of them…_

Randy shot up as he felt his cell phone vibrate. He flipped it open to see it said one simple message: _It's time…_

He quickly jumped out of the van and after making sure no one was looking, he dashed across the street and into the darkened alley that led to the back entrance of the museum.

Before he could even get to the door, it was pushed open and Barry was ushering him in. "We have to hurry," he whispered. "This place is swimming with cops."

"Have the two of you been spotted?" Randy asked softly.

Barry shook his head.

"Good," Randy said. "Make sure it stays that way. Where's Marco?"

"He's waiting for you," Barry answered.

Randy nodded. "Make sure no one bothers us. If they do, shoot them."

Barry nodded, his face neutral.

Randy walked away and found Marco waiting by the utility closet. He could hear the faint sound of voices coming in from the lobby.

"Can we get in?" Randy asked.

"We have a clear shot through the air ducts," Marco answered.

"And the alarms?" Randy asked.

"I'll disable them when you give the signal. "You'll have two minutes to get the emeralds and then get out," Marco explained.

Randy nodded. "Be ready to take the emeralds from me as soon as I get them."

"What are you going to do?" Marco asked.

"I'll go out the front entrance," Randy said. "After all, I am dressed up for the party. Just get out of here and get back to my place. I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

Marco shrugged. "You're in charge."

Randy smiled. He really did like this guy. He did the job he was paid to do and didn't ask any questions. _Unlike Barry…_

He looked down at his watch again. "We have seven minutes until the unveiling. Let's go."

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"God, this is so boring," Joe muttered, rotating his neck in order to pop it.

Nancy glanced over at him and smiled. "It's not so bad," she said.

"Yeah?" Joe arched an eyebrow. "Tell you what—if a criminal ever says he wants to torture me, tell him to make me sit through one of these things again." He took a sip of his champagne and cringed. "And this stuff tastes like crap."

"Then why do you keep drinking it?" Nancy asked.

"Because it's alcohol," Joe answered. "And because if I drink enough of it, it may make this shindig a little more interesting."

"'Shindig?'" Nancy asked.

"Shindig…hootenanny…par-tay," Joe said as he forced down the last bit of his champagne. "Take your choice."

Nancy just laughed and rolled her eyes at the younger Hardy brother. Then she turned her head to search for Frank. She finally found him talking to another man, who she recognized instantly.

"I'll be right back," she said to Joe. He just waved her off and she joined Frank.

"And speaking of gorgeous…"

Nancy smiled at Dean O'Malley, Frank's partner at the Chicago Police Department for the past couple of years. "I know that's not what you were talking about," she teased.

"Yeah, but you have to admit it sounded really good," Dean said.

Nancy's smile got wider. "You don't look so bad yourself, Detective."

"It really is a shame you're stuck with Hardy, here," Dean said. "We could have had something special."

"Careful, O'Malley," Frank said in mock warning.

Dean just smiled, but then turned serious. "So, how you been doing, Nancy?" he asked. "Frank says you've been through some hell this week."

Nancy shrugged. "Nothing more than usual," she said.

Dean gave her a stern look.

"You're as bad as your partner," she griped. "I really am fine, though."

"A real mess you got yourself into, isn't it?" he asked. "Why can't you be like other girls and stay out of trouble?"

Nancy smiled. "Haven't you heard, Dean? I'm not like other girls."

Frank and Dean laughed as Sam Mason walked to the podium and tried to get everyone's attention. Nancy saw Joe walk towards them as the din began to die down and Sam began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I please have your attention?" He waited until there was complete silence before he continued. "First of all, I would like to thank all of you for being here and all of your kind contributions that you have made to the museum. It is because of your contributions that we are able to bring the Majesty Emeralds to Chicago."

The room broke into generous applause.

"When we go into the other room, you will be handed a brochure that will explain the history of the emeralds," he said. "These emeralds are estimated to be worth at least twenty million dollars. And as long as these emeralds have existed, men have tried anything in order to get their hands on them."

Sam smiled as the room once again broke into applause.

"And now, without further ado, I present to you the Majesty Emeralds."

He turned around and walked to the double doors that led to the exhibit room. He opened the doors and everyone filed in and crowded around a large, rectangular glass case that was covered with a large black velvet cloth.

After making sure that everyone was in the room and had a good vantage point, Sam pulled off the velvet covering, causing several people in the room to gasp. Turning around, the smile on Sam's face disappeared and he let out a strangled gasp of his own.

"The emeralds!" he cried. "They're gone!"

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Have a happy Thanksgiving!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	17. Enemies Meet

**Okay…I know I haven't updated in forever and if you read my apology on the forums, then you know why. For those of you who didn't read, I have had a bunch of crap to deal with and I was just trying to get it out of the way. I would like to take the time to thank everyone who has supported me and my fics. You don't know how much you guys mean to me and how much I appreciate you guys. You are the reason I continue writing and I hope to continue to do so for years to come.**

**I hope that you forgive me for the lull in the updates. This story will be completed, so you can count on that. I have never abandoned a story, and I don't plan on doing it any time soon.**

**That being said, please let me know what you think.**

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There was an immediate flurry of activity in the room as undercover police and agents stormed in. Soft, frantic voices were quickly becoming a loud commotion as guests began to talk excitedly amongst themselves. Agents Phelps and Brennan hurried over the Nancy and the Hardys.

"Did the three of you see anything?" Agent Phelps demanded.

"The emeralds were gone when we got here," Nancy said.

Agent Phelps turned away from them. "Seal the perimeter!" he shouted. "No one leaves the museum until I give the say-so!"

"What are you going to do?" Nancy asked.

"We're going to search the building," Agent Phelps said. "Maybe they're still in the building."

"Let us come with you," Nancy said.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Miss Drew," Agent Brennan spoke up.

"Maybe not," Nancy said. "But I know what he looks like more than anyone in this room. If Randy's here, I can find him."

The agents looked like they were about to argue with her again, but finally relented. "Fine. Nancy, you come with me," Agent Phelps said. "You two boys go with Agent Brennan."

"Nancy shouldn't go alone," Frank said.

"She won't be alone. She'll be with me," Agent Phelps growled. "Now, go! We're wasting time."

Frank slightly hesitated, but listened anyway. Nancy followed Agent Phelps and the Hardys went the opposite way with Agent Brennan. As they were walking, Nancy saw they were headed to the back of the museum, which, of course, was dimly lit.

"He actually did it," Agent Phelps muttered, causing Nancy to jump in mild shock.

"And you're surprised?" Nancy asked, keeping perfect pace with him even though she was in heels.

Agent Phelps ignored her as they came to stop where the hallway branched off into two different directions.

"You go left and I'll go right," Agent Phelps said softly.

Nancy glanced at him. "Do you really think that's a good idea?" she asked.

"You don't?" Agent Phelps asked, returning her look.

"I'm not exactly in a position to fight if I had to," Nancy said, glancing down at her dress and heels. "What am I supposed to do? Hit him with my heel?"

"If you see anyone, just yell for me," Agent Phelps said. Before she could say anything else, he took off down the hall with his gun drawn.

_And by the time I actually got to yell for help, I would be dead,_ she thought ruefully. She let out a sigh as she watched his retreating figure. She really was getting tired of that man. Realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere cursing Agent Phelps, she let out another resigned sigh and walked the opposite way.

She was just starting down the hall when she heard a faint sound coming from somewhere. She stopped and listened intently for the sound again. The problem was that since it was so quiet back here, it sounded as if it came from everywhere. She looked around the dimness, but saw nothing. She turned around, and not paying attention to where she was going, she ran into something—or rather, _someone_.

Whoever it was grabbed her arms roughly and shoved her against the wall. She started to struggle against whoever held her, but the person wasn't letting go. Finally, she looked up and saw that she was staring into the unmistakable green eyes of Randy Wolfe. She instantly resumed her struggling.

"You look surprised to see me, Nancy," he said, smiling, as his hold on her remained firm.

"Let me go," Nancy said through gritted teeth.

Randy chuckled and shook his head. "I don't think so."

"There are people searching all over this building for you," she said.

Randy shrugged. "So, how did you like the flowers I brought you? It really was too bad you were sleeping when I delivered them."

"The garbage can seemed to like them a little more than I did," she said, smiling.

Randy smiled. "You always did have a good sense of humor."

Nancy ignored him. "Did you have something to do with the shooting at my house?"

"I may have played a minor role," Randy said, nonchalantly.

"So what now, Randy? I know you didn't stop me for a chat," Nancy said.

Randy shrugged one shoulder. "Actually, I did."

Nancy looked at him in disbelief.

Randy sighed. "Fine—I'm giving you a warning. Don't follow me to Miami or I swear to God, I will personally see to it that someone you love dies," he said, his voice icy.

"Your threats don't scare me, Randy," Nancy said. "I'm not going to let you get away with this."

"I figure as much," he said. "But know that I'm tired of making threats. Follow me and someone dies."

_"Nancy!"_

Nancy turned her head at the sound of her name. "Down here!" she shouted.

"I'll see you later, blue eyes," he said. He threw her to the ground and took off down the hall.

"Miss Drew, where are you?" Agent Phelps's voice echoed all around her.

"In here," Nancy said, sitting up against the wall.

She looked up when she heard the sound of pounding footsteps and saw Agent Phelps, followed closely by Frank. Frank was at her side in an instant, concern etched across his face.

"What happened?" he asked breathlessly.

"Randy," Nancy said, softly. She pointed down the hall. "He went that way."

Agent Phelps didn't waste any time as he took off in the direction that Nancy pointed. Frank helped her off the floor.

"Are you okay?" Frank asked. "Did he do anything to you?"

"I just hurt my arm when he threw me down," Nancy said, rubbing it. "He's going to Miami with the emeralds and he doesn't want me to stop him. He said if I did, he would make sure someone I love dies."

"We'll worry about that later," Frank said, hugging her. "What were you doing down here by yourself anyway?"

"Agent Phelps and I split up," Nancy answered as she pulled away from Frank.

Just then, the breathless agent came back to them. "I lost him," he said between breaths.

"What were you doing letting Nancy search alone?" Frank demanded his voice loud. "You were supposed to stay with her!"

"I wasn't thinking," Agent Phelps said, caught off guard with Frank's voice. "I thought we could cover more ground if we split up."

"Nancy wasn't armed!" Frank cried. "He could have killed her!"

"I apologize, Mr. Hardy," Agent Phelps said. "But it looks to me that he didn't."

Frank could feel his blood boiling. "And I'm supposed to be grateful to you? You know, I'm really getting tired of your apologies."

"I know I've made some bad choices concerning your fiancée," Agent Phelps said.

"Bad choices?" Frank asked. "The only thing you've been doing is seeing how many times you can get her killed."

"Would you two just stop it?" Nancy asked, her voice rising to match theirs.

Both men turned to look at her.

"It happened, okay? There's no way to go back and stop all this from happening," Nancy said.

Both men looked guiltily at the floor.

"Now we don't have much time left," Nancy said. "He's not going to be sticking around for much longer now that he knows the FBI is hunting him."

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Even though he knew it wasn't wise given the amount of police that were on the roads, Randy ignored the speed limit as he drove back to his small cottage. He was on a major adrenaline high and he felt pretty confident that nothing could bring him down.

As he pulled up the small cottage, he was glad to see that the unmarked van was sitting there. Satisfied that he wasn't followed and no one was watching him, he let himself in and quickly locked the door. He heard a couple of voices streaming in from the kitchen, so he moved in that direction.

"Boss! What happened?" Barry asked when he saw him enter. "We thought something happened to you."

Randy grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and popped it open. "You concern touches me deeply, Barry," he said, mocking him.

Barry slowly slunk down in his chair as Marco's laughter assaulted his ears.

"Where are they at?" Randy asked, taking another long sip of his beer.

"In your office," Marco answered.

Randy smiled. "Let's go see what we've got."

Randy and the two men walked back to his office. Marco and Barry stood by the door while Randy walked over to his desk and opened the small canvas bag. He spilled the emeralds onto his desk and smiled as his eyes took in the sight of the glittering jewels. He picked them up one at a time and started to inspect them and his smile began to vanish.

"What's wrong, Boss?" Barry asked.

"What is this?" he asked softly.

"What is what?" Barry asked glancing at Barry who just shrugged.

"This!" Randy yelled. He threw his beer bottle and it shattered against the door between Marco and Barry.

"What did you do?" Randy demanded. He looked at the two men with pure hatred in his eyes.

"We didn't do nothin', Boss," Marco said, unfazed.

"We only brought the emeralds here like you told us," Barry said, fear evident in his voice.

"No, you didn't," Randy said seething.

"What are you talking about?" Barry asked.

"You didn't bring the emeralds here because these are _fakes!_" Randy roared as he pushed the emeralds and everything else off of his desk.

"What?!" Barry and Marco said in shocked unison.

Randy gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. "She did this," he muttered. "She thought she could pull one over on me."

"Who?" Barry asked.

"Nancy—this is her fault," Randy said. "She knew about my emeralds the entire time."

Barry and Marco just watched him, both wisely remaining silent. "She's going to pay for this. I'm going to show her what happens when you screw with me," he said, his face breaking into a wicked grin.

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**I apologize for any errors that may have gotten away from me…**


	18. A Hot Trail

**Thanks for all of the reviews! I hope that you enjoy this chapter!!!!**

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Nancy opened her eyes to slits as the sun began to trickle into the bedroom of her apartment she shared with Frank, early the next morning. She groggily looked at her digital clock and let out a soft groan as the bright red numbers revealed it was only six-thirty; any normal person would still be sleeping.

She let out a soft sigh and glanced over at Frank, who was still sleeping soundly. Not wanting to wake him, she ran a hand through her long titian hair and quietly slipped out of the bed and went into her tiny kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She decided to make a stronger pot than usual, only because she needed to pick-me-up. The night before had been a rough one and she would take any caffeine boost she could get her hands on.

Her sleep last night had been bombarded with dreams of Randy. Every time she shut her eyes, she would snap them open just as quickly. She couldn't figure out why she let him get to her so easily. Maybe it was because she knew he would follow through on his threats. If she and Ned hadn't managed to stop him in Rio six years ago, he would have succeeded in not only killing her, but her father and countless others as well, in order to assure he got away with his crimes. After all, he had gone as far as to poison himself with curare in order to throw her off his trail.

Nancy stared at the coffeepot willing it to brew faster as it dripped its final drop and poured herself a cup. She then walked out the double doors to the balcony and breathed in the cool autumn air. She needed time to gather her thoughts and figure out what she was going to do next.

She knew she had to go after Randy and bring him to a stop. He had hurt too many people and he showed no signs of slowing down any time soon. But at the same time, she didn't want to risk the lives of the people she loved. She knew they would tell her she was being ridiculous—they knew the risks that her detective work entailed. They had been in countless life-and-death situations and they would look at this as just another one for the books.

But what if something worse happened this time…

After all, it wasn't just Randy Wolfe they were dealing with. He was deep into Miguel Sanchez's pockets. And Sanchez knew how to take care of people who got in his way. She had read countless news stories about what he had done to people who got in his way and none of them were for a PG-13 audience.

Nancy sat back in her chair and let out a deep sigh. She had no idea what she was going to do and all of her jumbled thoughts were running a marathon in her head. She almost wished someone would come along and make her decision for her.

She didn't bother to turn her head as she heard the door to the balcony open. She knew who was behind her. He was never one to let her wallow in her nagging thoughts alone for very long.

"Did I wake you?" Nancy asked softly.

"No. I wasn't even really sleeping," Frank answered, planting a kiss on the top of her head. He sat down beside her with his own cup of coffee.

"That makes two of us," she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

"How long have you been up?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"About thirty minutes," she answered. "I just came out here to think things through."

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

Nancy shook her head and looked out at the twinkling lights of the busy city. "I'm not sure," she answered truthfully.

They both sat in silence and watched as the sun began to rise over the horizon and the steady sound of traffic began to fill the quiet air.

"I need a refill," Nancy said, rising from her chair a few minutes later.

Frank didn't say anything but followed her inside where she refilled her mug to the brim. She was just about to take a sip when the doorbell rang. The same time she was answering the door, she saw Joe emerge from the guest room, wiping the sleepy from his eyes. Smiling at his appearance, she looked out the peephole and her smile disappeared as she saw who was out there.

"Agent Phelps," she said with mild annoyance as she opened the door. "Where's Agent Brennan?" she asked a little too eagerly before the agent could even greet her.

"He's downstairs waiting in the car," Agent Phelps said, slightly annoyed.

"Pity," she muttered under her breath as she opened the door wider to let the agent into her apartment.

"So what brings you here so early in the morning?" Frank asked, eyeing the agent warily.

"We may have caught a break in the case," the agent said, his eyes roving around the apartment. "I thought the three of you may be interested and want to tag along."

"What kind of break?" Joe asked, pulling the orange juice out of the refrigerator and fixing himself a glass.

"We're pretty sure we know where Randy Wolfe set up his 'operation' so to speak," Agent Phelps said, not bothering to hide the pride in his voice.

"Are you sure?" Nancy asked surprised.

"Only one way to find out," Agent Phelps said. "Do you care to join us or not?"

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Randy sent one last glance around the tiny room he was using as an office as Barry walked in, out of breath.

"Is everything ready?" Randy asked.

Barry nodded. "The plane's waiting for us at the airstrip."

"Good," Randy said, nodding. "We have to be ready to leave as soon as I say so."

"Is it really a good idea for us to stick around and wait for the FBI to show up?" Barry asked nervously.

Randy sent an angry look at Barry and let out a long, frustrated sigh. "You know, Barry, I have grown quite tired of you in these last few days. You have done nothing but question every single decision I make and whine about it."

"Boss, I—" Barry began, flustered.

"In fact, I find I am no longer in need of your services," Randy said. He reached behind his back and pulled out a small handgun. Barry could barely react before Randy shot him right through the heart.

Randy smiled as Barry's body hit the floor with a satisfying _thud_. "Well, that's one problem taken care of."

"Boss, is everything okay?" Marco asked, walking into the room. He stopped when he saw Barry's body and looked at Randy.

"Everything is now," Randy said, smiling. He then handed the gun to Marco. "Get rid of this and get to the plane. I'll be there as soon as I'm finished up around here."

Marco nodded and didn't offer an argument as he walked out of the office. Randy checked around the cottage one last time and then started to make his way to his car that was hidden down the street.

Now it was time to do his least favorite thing.

He had to wait.

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Nancy was now starting to wonder why they hadn't followed the agents in their own car instead of opting to ride with them. The ride could be described, at best, as tense. Barely any words had been uttered between the occupants of the car since they had left Chicago.

She glanced out the side window from where she was sitting between Frank and Joe and noticed they were heading towards River Heights. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she began to spot familiar sights.

"He's been in River Heights the entire time?" Nancy asked, not bothering to hide her surprise and admiration.

"Just outside of River Heights, actually," Agent Phelps said.

"Man this guy has some nerve," Joe said.

They drove for another ten minutes until they finally came to a stop in front of a lengthy dirt driveway.

"I've never seen this place before," Nancy said, somewhat surprised.

"It's hidden back there in the woods," Agent Phelps said. "It's been abandoned for such a long time, I'm not sure if anyone knows there's a place back there."

The agents got out of the car, followed by Nancy and the Hardys.

"Has anyone searched the place?" Frank asked.

Agent Phelps shook his head. "We only found about it this morning. We requested to search it first before the FBI sent in anyone else."

"Let's go see what we can find out," Nancy said, starting down the driveway.

"Miss Drew, I think it would be best if you stayed near the car," Agent Phelps said.

Nancy stopped and turned around to face the agent. "Why?"

"We're not sure if Randy or anyone else may be in that building," Agent Phelps answered patiently. "I would like to keep you out of trouble if I can help it."

"I think Agent Phelps may be right, Nan," Frank said, surprising her.

Nancy turned on him, her blue eyes blazing. "What?"

Frank held up his hands. "Just let us make sure everything's clear and then you can come up if the agents agree it's okay," he said, trying to placate her. He looked over at the agents and they both nodded in agreement.

"Fine," Nancy said coldly. She walked back to the car and sat on the hood, staring into the opposite direction.

"You know she's going to tear you a new one as soon as she gets a chance," Joe whispered to his brother.

Frank cringed and nodded. "I know."

Joe smiled in amusement as they started to follow the agents down the driveway. After walking a couple of minutes, they finally came to a stop in front of a small, dilapidated cottage that was in dire need of work. Deciding to split up, Joe and Agent Phelps took the front door and Frank and Agent Brennan took the back.

Joe got on one side of the door as Agent Phelps braced himself on the other side. Joe nodded and Agent Phelps withdrew his gun and knocked loudly.

"This is the FBI! Open the door!" Agent Phelps yelled.

They waited for an answer but silence was the only thing to greet them.

"We're coming in!" Agent Phelps yelled. He reached out cautiously and tried the knob and found that it turned easily in his hand.

Joe followed as Agent Phelps led the way in.

"Anyone in here?" Agent Phelps called in to the eerie silence.

Again silence answered them.

"I guess we have the place to ourselves," Joe quipped. Agent Phelps didn't look amused.

"Phelps, you in here?" Agent Brennan's voice boomed through the small cabin.

"Yeah," Agent Phelps said. "Do you got anything?"

"We're searching," Agent Brennan answered.

The house once again grew silent as the four men split up and began to search the cottage. The silence was finally broken two minutes later when Frank's anxious shout got their attention.

"I got something!"

There was a flurry of footsteps as Joe and the two agents made their way to one of the back rooms. There, they found Frank kneeling next to a prone body.

Frank looked up at them and shook his head before they could even ask. "He's dead."

Joe moved to see the guy's face and let out a low whistle. "That's Barry Allen," he said softly.

Frank nodded. "I guess Randy was finished using him."

"Johnny Allen's brother," Agent Phelps said.

Both brothers nodded grimly.

"I'll go call this in and let Miss Drew know what's going on," Agent Phelps said.

The remaining men barely acknowledged him as he backed out of the room.

"How long do you think he's been dead?" Joe asked.

Frank shrugged. "If I had to make a guess, I would say no less than an hour."

"That's what I would say, too," Agent Brennan said, looking at the body.

"Let's see if we can find anything in here while we're waiting for Agent Phelps," Joe suggested.

"Good idea," Frank said.

Leaving the body momentarily forgotten, the brothers and the agent began to search the room. Looking around the desk, Frank spotted some back issues of _Today's Times_, the local newspaper for River Heights. Glancing at the papers, Frank saw that any mention of Nancy had been circled with red marker.

"I wonder what's taking Agent Phelps so long," Joe commented after they had been searching in silence for ten minutes.

"He may be having a hard time getting through," Agent Brennan said.

Frank straightened up from where he had been leaning over the desk. "There's nothing here except for old articles about Nancy," he said with mild disgust.

"I haven't found anything, either," Joe said.

"This place is pretty much clean," Agent Brennan agreed.

Joe's head perked up as an acrid smell began to assault his nostrils.

"What's wrong?" Frank asked, noticing his brother's expression.

"Do you smell something?" Joe asked, sniffing the air.

Frank sniffed. "Now that you mention it, I do."

"It smells like something's burning," Agent Brennan said.

All three men seemed to share the same thought as they glanced at each other. Frank and Joe dashed out of the room and ran for the front and back door, respectively. Frank tried to open the door but found it to be blocked against something. He threw his full weight against it, but it wouldn't budge.

He began to cough and his eyes began to water as smoke started to fill the house. Covering his mouth and nose with his arm, he ran towards the back where he found Joe pounding against the back door.

"Can you open it?" Frank shouted.

Joe shook his head as he began to cough. "It's stuck!"

"The front door is too," Frank said.

"What's going on?" Agent Brennan asked.

"The house is on fire and the doors are stuck!" Joe said loudly.

As Frank started to cough more violently, a moment of terror seemed to seize his body.

_Nancy! _

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**Let me know what you think!!!!!**


	19. Double Crossing

**Author's Note: Thanks again for all of the wonderful reviews. I really am glad that you are enjoying this story. Just so you know, there are not many more chapters left in this little fic. **

**I may not update again before Christmas, but I'm not entirely sure. That being said, in case I don't update again, have a Merry Christmas!**

**Oh, and as always, read and review!**

Nancy could think of a million other things she would rather be doing than sitting on Agent Phelps's car and waiting. The number one thing she had come up with now involved sticking pins in her eyes while walking on shards of glass.

She sighed and looked at her watch. She had been sitting here for nearly twenty minutes. _What was taking them so long? _She thought, growing increasingly frustrated, but it was mostly with herself. What was going on with her to allow herself to be ordered to stay back? She never was one to take orders, so why was she doing it now?  
_Because Frank asked you to,_ the little voice in her head said.

_But when has that ever stopped me? Is it going to be like this when we get married? Am I going to sit back and obey everything he tells me to do?_

Nancy chuckled. "That settles it," she said to herself. "I'm not sitting here anymore."

She jumped off the hood of the car and started to make her way down the driveway. She had only taken a few steps when she heard a sound. She stopped where she was and listened intently, her heart pounding madly in her chest.

There it was again! It sounded like approaching footsteps. Not entirely sure if it was friend or foe, she darted behind the car and hid.

"Miss Drew?"

Nancy let out a semi-relieved sigh when she heard Agent Phelps's voice. She stood up and saw that he appeared to be flustered about something.

"What's going on?" she asked. "What's taking so long?"

Agent Phelps grabbed his cell phone from the car and dialed a number. He looked at Nancy and said, "We found a body."

"What? Who?" she asked.

"Your fiancée and his brother identified the body as Barry Allen," he said. He pulled his cell phone from his ear and glanced at it. "Damn it! I lost the signal!"

A smell caught Nancy's attention and she glanced up to see smoke billowing above the trees that lined the driveway. Her blue eyes widened in horror and she started to take off towards the cottage.

"Miss Drew, where are you going?" Agent Phelps asked, forgetting about his call.

"The cottage is on fire!" Nancy shouted frantically. "I have to help Frank and Joe!"

"No, wait!" Agent Phelps said, sprinting after her.

"Frank! Joe!" she screamed, skidding to a stop in front of the burning cottage.

"Come on, we can go call the fire department," Agent Phelps said from behind her, pausing to catch his breath.

"No," Nancy said shaking her head. "I have to help them." She started for the cottage again, but Agent Phelps grabbed her.

"You can't go in there!" he said, fiercely. "It's too dangerous!"

As if to emphasize his point, glass shattered as the windows began to explode one by one.

"Frank!" Nancy screamed, fearfully. She tried to break from Agent Phelps's grip, but he held onto her firmly. "You have to let me go! I have to help them!"

"No," Agent Phelps said firmly. "There's nothing you can do for them."

Exhausted from struggling with the agent, Nancy fell to the ground, her chest heaving painfully. _He can't be gone_, she told herself fiercely. _He isn't in there. _They _aren't in there._

As Nancy choked back sobs, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Just leave me alone," she said numbly, shrugging the hand off.

"I'm afraid the good agent can't leave you alone in your condition, blue eyes," she heard a familiar voice say.

She turned her head around sharply and saw Randy Wolfe, standing above her smiling. "You did this," she said, her eyes blazing.

Randy's smile widened. "With a little help from the agent here," he said, nodding at Phelps.

Nancy felt anger boil in her chest as she launched herself at Randy. "You set them up!" she screamed.

Randy laughed as Agent Phelps pulled her off of him. "I had to do something to keep them out of the way."

Nancy shook her head as she struggled in the agent's grasp. Lifting up her leg, she stomped down hard on his foot, causing him to release her.

"You bitch!" he muttered as she took off down the driveway.

"I don't know where you think you're going, blue eyes," Randy taunted her. He nodded at the agent and Phelps took off after her.

She had made it to the car when the agent grabbed a hold of her long hair and pulled her against his body. Lifting her legs up, she kicked against the car, but this time he didn't ease his grip. He turned her around to face Randy who was slowly approaching, the smile still plastered on his face.

"You're going to pay for this, Randy," she muttered through clenched teeth.

"Maybe so," Randy said. "But not today."

She watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was a syringe filled with a clear liquid.

"Just a sedative," he said, seeing her expression. "I need to have you well rested for Miami."

Nancy struggled again, but then she felt the prick of the needle as it entered her skin. In no time at all, images began to swim in front of her eyes. She tried to fight against it, but soon her world became engulfed in darkness.

Randy threw out the needle and took Nancy's limp body from Agent Phelps. "You did good work, Agent. There's a seat available on the plane if you care to join us."

"I have to clean up around here first," Agent Phelps said. "I'll be there in a few hours. But there is something I need you to do for me first."

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The smoke was starting to get thicker and it was all Frank could do to try to stay conscious enough in order to find a way out.

"Joe! We need to bust out a window!" Frank yelled between coughing fits, "It's the only way we can get out of here!"

Joe nodded and began to look for the best possible escape route. "We need to go back through the office!" he shouted. "The fire's not in there yet!"

Frank and Agent Brennan stumbled behind Joe and after entering the room they closed the door and went to the window. Joe tried lifting up the window but it wouldn't budge. Looking on the desk, he grabbed a lamp that was heavy enough to bust it out.

After making sure that Frank and the agent were away from him, he raised the lamp up and hit it against the window. It didn't break with the first swing, so he kept hitting it until it finally shattered completely.

Fresh air rushed into the room and the three men breathed it in deeply. Joe then shrugged off his jacked and, wrapping it around his arm, he used it to remove the jagged pieces of glass that were still lodged in the frame.

As he finished, the flames were starting to lick the door. The three men quickly clambered out and fell out of the cottage onto the hard ground, coughing violently.

"What about Allen?" Joe asked, catching his breath.

Agent Brennan looked up at the burning cottage and shook his head. "There's no way we can go back in and get him. It's too dangerous."

"What happened? Are you three all right?"

They looked up and saw Agent Phelps walking towards them, rubbing his jaw.

Frank felt anger course through his body. "What does it look like?" he asked, pointing to the cottage.

Agent Phelps looked up and then at the three men. "Were the three of you in there?" he asked, concern filling his voice.

"We were locked in," Joe said, angrily. "Apparently someone wanted to have a barbecue and we were the main course."

Frank looked behind Agent Phelps, a frown forming on his soot covered face. "Where's Nancy?"

Agent Phelps flinched and looked down at the ground.

Frank felt terror seize him. "Where is she?" he demanded, getting to his feet.

Agent Phelps reflexively took a step back. "She's gone. Someone knocked me out and must have taken her."

"What?!" Before he could stop himself, he punched the agent in the jaw, making him fall to the ground.

"Frank!" Joe called trying to calm his brother down.

"You told me that she would be safe!" Frank shouted. "You promised that this wouldn't happen to her again!"

"I'm sorry," Agent Phelps said. "I never meant for it to happen."

Frank looked like he wanted to attack the agent again. And for a brief moment, he actually considered it. After all, he had just punched the agent, so if he was going to get in trouble for it, he may as well make it count. But knowing that wouldn't help Nancy, he backed off and just walked away.

Joe followed his brother as Agent Brennan helped Agent Phelps off the ground.

"Frank—" Joe began.

Frank shook his head. "I can't go through this again, Joe," he said. "I can't lose her all over again. I won't survive it."

Joe watched his brother stubbornly wipe way a tear that had fallen down his cheek. "Frank, I'm not going to let you do this again. We're going to find her."

Frank looked up at his brother and nodded. "You're right. We're going to find her and these bastards are going to pay once and for all."

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"It took you long enough to get here," Miguel said to Randy as he walked into his office.

"Sorry," Randy said. "I had to tie up a few loose ends."

"Do you have the emeralds?" Miguel asked.

"We have a slight problem," Randy said, taking a seat.

Miguel's eyes narrowed. "What kind of problem?"

"I was set up," Randy answered. "The emeralds were fakes."

"What?" Miguel said, his voice booming.

"The emeralds are fakes," Randy repeated himself slower as if he was talking to a dull child.

"Where are my emeralds?" Miguel demanded.

"I don't know," Randy said, not the least bit intimidated by Miguel's temper. "But I know someone who does."

"Who?"

Randy smiled. "I'm so glad you asked…"

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**I have to say that I am enjoying all of your reactions for my characters. Even though he isn't mine, Randy is a very fun character to write and I am enjoying adding more to him. Agent Phelps is my creation and he has been a wonderful character to write. I like reading the reviews and seeing how conflicted you are, because you're not sure who you should hate more. I'm pretty sure that this chapter didn't help matters any!**

**Okay, let me know what you think!**

**Happy Holidays!**


	20. Filling in Some Blanks

**I hope that everyone had a wonderful Christmas. And now as a belated present to you, I give you the next chapter!**

**Oh, and I ask that you give me a belated present too…a review!**

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Nancy could feel a slight pounding in her head as her eyes slowly began to flutter open. She tried to raise her hands in order to massage her aching head, but she found that they bound securely behind her back. Without thinking, she let panic seize her as she opened her eyes all the way and found that she was in a small, darkened space.

Taking a calming, deep breath she tried to raise herself up, but found that she was hindered in doing so. Being careful to make as little noise as possible, she began to pull at her restraints, but realized her efforts were being wasted when she found that cuffs were around her wrists. _Definitely not going to find a paperclip in here, _she thought ruefully. She laid her head back down as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

She forced herself to remain still and calm as a key was inserted into a lock. A door above her opened and she finally found that she had been locked in the trunk of a car the entire time.

"I see you finally decided to wake up from your little nap," Randy said, leering at her.

Nancy didn't say anything; she just kept a steady glare directed at him.

Randy shrugged. "Not too talkative, I see," he said. "Don't worry, you will be. I have someone who wants to meet you."

He reached down and pulled her out of the trunk. Nancy stumbled out of the trunk and had to take a couple of moments to regain her equilibrium since she could still feel the effects of the drug Randy had used on her still in her system.

She took another moment to gaze at her surroundings and her breath caught in her throat. She was looking up at the biggest house she had ever set her sights on. It was a large mansion with beige outer walls and Spanish tiles as far as the eye could see. As Randy led her up to the house, she could see people working around the lawn, but they paid her no heed.

_Apparently they're used to sights like this,_ Nancy thought with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. _I won't be getting any help from them…_

Randy seemed to know what she was thinking. "I wouldn't count on them to help you, blue eyes," he said, grinning at her.

"Where are we?" Nancy asked as he led her through a door.

"We're in beautiful Miami," Randy answered.

"I thought you didn't want me anywhere near Miami," Nancy challenged him.

Randy let out a humorless chuckle. "That was until you decided to screw me over, Nancy. You should have known better than that."

"What are you talking about?" Nancy asked.

Randy glanced at her. "Don't try to get cute on me now."

They finally came to a stop at a large, ornate wooden door and Randy turned the knob. Being led into the room, Nancy saw a distinguished looking man with piercing blue eyes and elegantly coiffed raven hair sitting behind a large, mahogany desk. Randy pushed her down into a hard, wooden chair that was in front of the desk. Before she could even think about trying to get out of the room, he restrained her to the chair. He then stepped back and let his intense gaze remain on her.

"So, are you going to tell me why I'm here or do you plan on just staring at me the entire time?" she asked, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

Miguel smiled as he got up from his desk and approached her. "So, this is the girl that has managed to bring you down?" he asked, with slight admiration in his silky voice.

"No, this is the girl that has kept you from your emeralds," Randy answered.

Miguel stopped in front of Nancy and gently grabbed her chin. He smiled as he studied her. "She really is quite beautiful," he said.

Nancy glared at him. "Thank you for the compliment, but I usually want to know a guy's name before I let him touch me."

Miguel chuckled, not the least bit offended. "Pardon my rudeness. My name is Miguel Sanchez—perhaps, you've heard of me." He let go of her chin and took a step back. "I like you. I have a feeling I am going to find you very entertaining."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Sanchez, but I'm not here to entertain you," she said, coldly.

Miguel let out another chuckle and glanced at Randy. "And she's feisty," he said. He then turned around and backhanded her across the face. Nancy bit back a cry, but could taste blood in her mouth as she shook her head. He then stooped down and glared at her. "You would do well to learn the difference between feisty and stupid."

Nancy didn't say anything as she flexed her jaw.

Randy then let a cruel smile play on his lips as Miguel stood up again. "She's not all that feisty when you take away someone she loves."

Nancy glanced sharply at Randy and felt as if he had punched her in the stomach as memories began to assault her. _The burning cottage…Frank and Joe trapped inside!_

"Did I hit a sore spot?" he asked, mocking her.

Nancy could feel tears begin to sting her eyes, but she pushed them away. She refused to let Randy see any emotion.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, tightly.

"I see you want to get down to business," Miguel said. He walked back to his desk and sat down. "Very well. It's very simple, Miss Drew. I want to know where my emeralds are."

Nancy scoffed. "I believe that's a question for your Boy Wonder over there."

Miguel smiled patiently. "Funny you should say that, Miss Drew, because I just did. He informed me that the emeralds from the gala were fakes."

"That sounds like it's a problem for you, not me," Nancy said.

"But it is your problem," Miguel said. "Because Señor Wolfe tells me that you know where they are."

Nancy tilted her head and let a small smile play on her lips. "Then he lied to you. I have no idea where your emeralds are."

Miguel looked at Randy angrily. Randy ignored him as he walked over to Nancy and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. He then held it to her throat as Miguel looked on, amused.

"Tell me where they are," he demanded, his voice a growl.

"I don't know," Nancy said again, ignoring the blade.

"Quit lying to me!" He screamed and pushed the blade further into her flesh. "You worked with the FBI! They told you where the emeralds were going to be!"

"Then you have a problem, Randy," Nancy said quietly. "If the FBI told me before you gave me that trip to the hospital, then I don't remember. I can't remember anything from the start of this whole mess."

Randy's eyes bore into hers. Then he pushed away from her in frustration. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled.

"You messed up, Randy," Nancy said taunting him. "Maybe next time you'll think before you do something stupid."

"There isn't going to be a next time," Randy said, anger pulsating from him. "I'm going to take care of you once and for all."

"Like you did last time?" Nancy asked.

Randy walked towards her again, but Miguel's voice stopped him. "That's enough. It's obvious she doesn't know anything."

Randy glanced at Miguel and then at Nancy. "Fine," he muttered through clenched teeth.

Miguel smiled. "We'll just let Miss Drew sit here until she can tell us something. If she doesn't have an answer for us when we come back, then she dies."

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"Where's Phelps?" Frank asked Agent Brennan who had just finished talking to the forensics team. They were still in River Heights, standing in front of the burnt out shell that was once been the cottage leased to one Randall James Wolfe.

"Our director called him," Agent Brennan said. "Apparently they're not too happy with his job performance," he added a little too eagerly.

Frank felt a smile tug at his lips, but hid it very quickly. He was now starting to feel anxious—he was stuck here while Nancy was off with a crazed criminal. And it didn't seem as if they were going to leave from here any time soon.

Just then, Joe joined them after being examined by the paramedics.

"So, are you going to be sticking with us for a while?" Frank asked his brother.

Joe raised his eyebrows. "A little while?" he asked. "Paramedics said I just may live forever."  
Frank smiled. "Then God help the world."

Joe punched him on the arm but smiled anyway. "So, what are we waiting for now?"

"Agent Phelps," Frank said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"We're going after Nancy as soon as we can," Agent Brennan assured the brothers.

"Yeah, well, it's not fast enough," Frank snapped. Then his voice softened towards the agent. "I'm sorry, Agent. It's not you I'm mad at."

Agent Brennan just shrugged it off and glanced back at the cottage.

Joe glanced at his brother and knew exactly who Frank was mad at. "You can't blame yourself for this, Frank," he said softly.

"I could have stopped this from happening," Frank muttered.

"How?" Joe asked as Agent Brennan turned to look at the brothers again. "Can you now be in two places at once? Did you forget you were trapped inside a burning house? How could you have stopped it, Frank?"

"I could have gotten out here faster," Frank offered lamely.

"That's a piss poor answer, Frank, and you know it," Joe said, shaking his head. "I seem to remember you telling Nancy not to blame herself for what happened to her. Seems to me you need to take your own advice and use it."

Frank stared at his brother in amazement. He rarely went off on tangents like that and it always surprised him when he did it and came off as philosophical.

"Your brother is right, Detective," Agent Brennan said softly. He was about to continue when the chirping of his cell phone interrupted him. "Excuse me," he said to the brothers and stepped away.

"Thanks, Joe," Frank said.

Joe shrugged and then his expression turned to one of mock horror. "Do we have to hug now? You know how much I hate these chick-flick moments."

Frank chuckled and shook his head as Agent Brennan approached them with a grim look on his face. "What's going on?" Frank asked.

Agent Brennan sighed. "That was the director, checking in and seeing how the case was progressing."

The brothers looked at him in confusion. "Why would he call you when he called Phelps not too long ago?" Joe asked.

"That's what I asked him," Agent Brennan said. "He said he hasn't talked to Jack in a few days."

"What?" Joe asked, shocked. "Why would Agent Phelps lie to us?"

"Only one reason I can think of," Frank said, anger evident all over his face.

Joe and Agent Brennan looked at him.

"He's been working against us the entire time," Frank said. He shook his head in amazement. "I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner."

"Don't you think that's a little far-fetched?" Joe asked, not entirely convinced of his brother's theory.

"I may have to agree with your brother, Frank," Brennan said. "Jack's been an agent for almost twenty years."

"And he's been stuck at the same job for all of those years," Frank pointed out. "What better motive than that? He agrees to work for Sanchez against the FBI and he's very well compensated for his services. It insures that the FBI won't come knocking at his door any time soon."

"What about Randy Wolfe?" Joe asked. "I thought Randy was the one working for Sanchez."

"He is," Frank said. "They both are. I just think they're working at two different angles." He turned to Agent Brennan. "You said so yourself, Sanchez has other people do his dirty work for him. So it would make sense if he covered himself at both points. Randy's a criminal and so is Sanchez—as a rule criminals don't trust other criminals. Phelps is a cop and Sanchez sure as hell isn't going to put all of his faith in a cop, even if he's turned rogue."

Agent Brennan nodded somewhat reluctantly. "You're starting to make sense."

"So you're saying Phelps has been with Sanchez from day one?" Joe asked Frank.

Frank shrugged. "It would make sense. Agent Phelps could have easily found out that Nancy had a history with Randy. He figured he could use her because of her knowledge on Randy and when he was finished with her, he would throw her to the wolves."

Joe winced. "Bad pun," he said.

Frank sighed. "Sorry. Anyway, he could have easily told Wolfe how to get Nancy, figuring he could get rid of the two people who could get him sent away if they found out. Randy would kill Nancy and in turn, he would go to prison for murder. So he offered Nancy up to Randy and didn't look back."  
"But she survived," Joe said.

"Exactly, which I am guessing is why he was so anxious to see her at the hospital," Frank said. "He must have thought she could ID him."

"How?" Joe asked. "He would she know he's involved with Sanchez?"

Frank shrugged. "Remember, this is just a theory."

"Yeah, but a pretty damn good one if you ask me," Joe said.

"She could have seen him do something," Frank said. "Hell, he could have hand-delivered her to Randy himself." He looked again at Agent Brennan. "Has he had to bail on you at any time?"

Agent Brennan shrugged. "No more than usual. But he has been getting a lot more phone calls."

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm hating this more and more. If I'm right, then Phelps is on his way to Miami."

"To meet up with Sanchez," Joe said.

"Right," Frank said. "That means we need to head down there ourselves."

Agent Brennan pulled out his phone. "I'll see if I can get us a flight."

Frank glanced at his brother, fear creeping into his voice. "I hope I'm not right about this, Joe. Because if I am, then Nancy's in a lot more trouble than I think she realizes."

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**Tell me what you think and I will update again next year!!!!**

**Happy New Year!!!!!!**


	21. Fallen

**Thank you for the reviews! I noticed that the alerts didn't go out on the last chapter, so many of my regulars didn't get to read the last chapter. So if you are coming back to read, check out the last chapter if you haven't already.**

**Many of you who did review said you were a little upset that Frank figured everything out in one shot. But you have to kind of remember that it was a theory working out for him...he even admitted as such. And it was a heat of the moment thing, so he was going with what his mind was telling him. I like it that ya'll pointed it out to me. It shows that you are really paying attention and you're connected to these characters.**

**I would like to say a special thanks for my betas...you know who you are and how much I love what you do for me!**

**Sorry that this chapter is a little short, but I had to leave it off where I did in order for it to flow well.**

**Okay, enough talking from me!**

**Read and let me know what you think...it's the only compensation I get!**

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Nancy struggled in vain against the cuffs that secured her to the chair for what seemed the millionth time and she was getting exhausted. She had been left in Miguel Sanchez's office for what she guessed was at least fifteen minutes now and she was getting antsy.

She finally sighed in frustration and leaned her head back against the chair as she realized she wasn't going to get free. The only thing she had been successful in so far was making her wrists chaffed. She hated being in this position because she wanted to know what was going on with Sanchez and Randy—especially since it concerned her. She wanted to know what they were planning on doing to her, and really, she just wanted to get it over with.

But what troubled her most were Frank and Joe. Was Randy right when he said they had both been killed in the fire? Or had they managed to get out in time? Nancy really hoped for the latter because she just couldn't let herself believe that Frank and Joe were gone. And if they did get out, did they have any idea how to find her or where to even look?

Nancy closed her eyes as all of her thoughts were starting to jumble into one as a headache began to form near her temples. All of a sudden a blinding pain assaulted her head and she felt as if she may throw up. She let out a groan as the pain seemed to cease almost instantly.

But the pain was quickly replaced with an image—an image that appeared foggy, but something that she recognized almost instantly.

_Nancy opened the front door to see Agent Phelps standing outside her father's house, his frame surrounded by the porch light._

_"Agent Phelps," she said. "What are you doing here?"_

_"I actually needed to speak with you," Agent Phelps said, glancing around the neighborhood._

_Nancy's brows furrowed. "This can't wait until morning?" she asked._

_"I'm afraid not," he answered. He looked behind her into the house. "Can we go to the diner up the road and talk?"_

_"Now's not really a good time," Nancy said. "I was about to go to the movies with my fiancée."_

_"I assure you that this won't take long at all," Agent Phelps said quickly. "I just need to make sure I have everything that you know about Randy Wolfe."_

_Nancy thought for a few seconds and then reluctantly nodded. "Let me grab my jacket."_

_Five minutes later Nancy was sitting in the passenger seat of Agent Phelps's car as he drove. They drove in silence and Nancy began to frown as he started to leave the city limits of River Heights. _

_"I thought you wanted to stop at the local diner and talk," Nancy said, trying to keep the worry from creeping into her voice._

_Agent Phelps looked over at Nancy. "There's been a slight change of plans."_

_"What do you mean?" Nancy asked, worried._

_Agent Phelps just smiled grimly at her and kept his eyes focused on the road ahead of him._

_"Stop the car and let me out," she said, firmly._

_"I'm afraid that I can't do that, Miss Drew," Agent Phelps said._

_Nancy stared at the agent. "Can't let me out or you won't?" she asked. When the agent didn't answer her, Nancy's hand found the handle and she began to pull at it. But to her surprise, the door wouldn't open._

_"What did you do?" she asked._

_"Activated the child locks," he answered. He then pulled out his gun and aimed it at her with a steady hand. "I would advise you to stay still, Miss Drew, or you'll find yourself in the trunk."_

_Nancy glanced over at him and even in the moonlight she could see that his face was expressionless. "What's going on?" she asked, trying to keep her gaze away from the gun that was pointed at her._

_Agent Phelps ignored her and kept driving. Soon the car pulled into a long dirt driveway and came to a stop in front of a small, dilapidated cottage. The bad feeling that had been with her for a while now, seemed to double as she glanced up at the illuminated cottage. A chill made its way down her spine when Agent Phelps got out and walked over to her side of the car._

_Nancy's instincts had rarely steered her wrong and right now it was screaming at her to get away—and fast. When Agent Phelps opened her door she pushed it open as hard as she could and caught the agent off-guard as he fell to the ground. She flew out of the car, but barely had time to run as the agent caught up with her and held his gun to her head. _

_"Sorry, Nancy," he said panting. "It's only business."_

_Nancy struggled with him as he dragged her back to the cottage. Only this time the cottage looked different because there was someone waiting on the porch._

_"You set me up," Nancy said, struggling against the agent._

_"Like I said, it's just business," he said softly into her ear._

_He then pushed her into the waiting arms of Randy Wolfe…_

Nancy's eyes snapped open and she worked hard to catch her breath. She finally remembered something! _Looks like Frank was right about Agent Phelps after all,_ she thought ruefully. Pair that up with the fact that the agent had now served her up to Randy again, and that pretty much confirmed that Frank was right.

Her breathing hitched as she heard the lock to the door behind her click softly. She glanced quickly behind her to see someone she didn't recognize. He walked towards her determinedly and then knelt behind her.

"What is it now?" Nancy asked, glaring at the man.

The man glanced at her quickly and then at her wrists. "You've really done a number on your wrists here," he said, touching her hands.

Nancy jerked away from him and instantly regretted it as pain shot up through her arms. "Who are you?" she demanded.

He ignored her question. "You want me to help you or not?" he asked, holding up a key.

Nancy stared at the man, confusion evident all over her face. She reluctantly let the man take her hands again and soon felt the cuffs being removed.

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her wrists.

"You're welcome," he said, helping her up from the chair.

"Now will you at least tell me who you are?" she asked.

He smiled. "My name is Paul Marrow. I'm an agent with the FBI."

"How did you get in here without being caught?" she asked.

"You won't get caught if you've been here for the last six months," he said, winking at her.

Realization hit Nancy full force. "You're the agent whose been working undercover," she said.

Paul nodded. "I can fill the blanks in for you later," he said. "But I've seen enough people killed in the past six months and I'm not going to let you be another. Let me get you out of here while I can."

Though Nancy was still trying to recover from her shock at the appearance of her savior, she nodded her head and let him the lead the way.

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"There is nothing we can do, Señor, if the woman doesn't know where the emeralds are," Miguel said as Randy paced angrily across the floor.

"I can make her talk," Randy muttered.

"I'm sure you could, but that still wouldn't change the fact that she doesn't know where the emeralds are," Miguel said calmly, enjoying Randy's torment.

Randy stopped pacing and looked at Miguel. "How can you be so damn calm?" he asked. "You've been obsessing over these emeralds for the last eight years."

"You're right," Miguel said. "I have."

"Then what is it?" Randy asked. "If she doesn't know where the emeralds are, then who the hell does?"

"Maybe I can help you with that."

Randy whirled around as Agent Phelps walked out onto the patio.

"What are you doing here now?" Randy asked. "I thought you said it would be a few hours."

"Taking care of a little business," Agent Phelps said.

Randy tensed as Agent Phelps reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a velvet bag. He tossed it over to Miguel who caught it effortlessly.

"What is that?" Randy asked.

Agent Phelps merely smiled as Miguel opened the bag and poured the emeralds, all of various sizes, onto a small side table.

Randy looked at both men, shock registering all over his face. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

Agent Phelps smiled and glanced over at Miguel, who in return nodded. The agent then produced a gun from his holster and then aimed it at Randy. "Mr. Sanchez is no longer in need of your services."

And with that Agent Phelps shot Randy in the chest.

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	22. Plans That Are Made

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the amazing reviews for the last two chapters. They have been absolutely encouraging and I appreciate each and every one of them. I love it that you are taking the time to tell me which scenes bothered you and the ones that you love. It is this kind of critcism that I love and respect.**

**Okay, enough from me! This chapter is a little short, but I had to end it there for a reason!**

**Happy reading and let me know what you think!**

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Nancy couldn't stop the butterflies that had made their way into her stomach as Agent Marrow opened the door. Something didn't feel right to her about this whole thing and she just couldn't put her finger on it.

That bad feeling became very real when Agent Marrow opened the door completely. There, standing in the doorway, was Miguel Sanchez and Agent Phelps, who was pointing a gun at them. Nancy noticed, with a little apprehension that Randy was nowhere to be seen.

"Going somewhere, Miss Drew?" Agent Phelps asked, smiling at her.

"What's going on here?" Paul asked.

Agent Phelps turned to look at the undercover agent. "Sorry, Paul. Looks like your gig here is up."

"Jack…" Paul said, but his voice was cut short as a bullet cut through his chest.

Nancy screamed and jumped back in fear as a little blood spattered on her face. She looked at Agent Phelps, who now had the gun leveled at her.

"Unless you want to end up like your new friend down there, I suggest you sit back down in that chair," he said.

Nancy hesitated as a slight tremor went through her body. To say that she was scared to death would be a complete understatement at this point. Before she could even make her way back to the chair Agent Phelps grabbed her arm and forced her back into it, making sure she was again restrained. She tried to keep her gaze off the dead agent on the floor, but she was having a hard time doing that.

"Where's Randy?" she asked as Miguel sat down once again in his chair.

"He's been taken care of," Agent Phelps said.

Nancy looked at the rogue agent in shock. _Well, at least that's one taken care of, _she thought. But she wasn't sure if she should be comforted by that fact. After all, if Randy was dead, that meant he was never calling the shots in the first place and that still left her to contend with the crime lord and Agent Phelps, who had just shown her he had no problem killing anyone that got in his way.

"If you're hoping to get the emeralds' location out of me, you're still out of luck," Nancy said, masking the fear that she was feeling.

Agent Phelps just smiled at her. "That problem's already taken care of," he said. "You see, I've had them with me the entire time."

Nancy looked sharply at the agent. "Then what the hell did you need Randy for?" she asked.

"I used Mr. Wolfe in order to divert the attention from Agent Phelps, here. After all, it wouldn't look good for the FBI if an agent was the one who stole the emeralds," Miguel said. "We knew if the public was keeping their eyes out for a known criminal, then they wouldn't even think twice about the agent."

"So you were working for Sanchez from day one?" Nancy asked, glancing at the agent.

"You got that right, sweetheart," Agent Phelps said, smiling.

Nancy glared daggers at the agent and then turned her attention to Sanchez. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

Miguel smiled at Nancy, relishing in the fact that he was getting to entertain his guest. "What would you like to know, Miss Drew?"

"Randy was never supposed to be released from prison," Nancy said. "How did you get him out?"

"Money speaks volumes, Miss Drew," Miguel said. "All I had to do was pay the right price and the warden decided to look the other way."  
"How much did his freedom cost you?" Nancy asked.

"Two million dollars," Miguel said. "But it was worth it."

"And how long had you been planning the heist?" she asked.

"About three months."

"Is that when you decided to get involved?" Nancy asked, her gaze once again focused on the agent.

"Not entirely," Agent Phelps said. "I was on the sidelines up until about three weeks ago."

"Does Agent Brennan know?" Nancy asked.

"Cory has no idea what I've been doing," Agent Phelps said.

"And you set me up from the beginning," she stated.

"You were a necessary casualty," Agent Phelps said, shrugging.

"You served me up to Randy the first time," she said.

"I did."

"And you're the one who set fire to the cottage," Nancy said, anger boiling inside of her.

"They got in my way," Agent Phelps said matter-of-factly.

Nancy looked away from the agent. "Do you know who put me in the hospital?" she asked.

"One of the incompetent bozos that Randy hired," Agent Phelps said. "He was supposed to kill you, but apparently he had a conscience. But he was taken care of as was his brother."

Nancy decided to change track. "What about the two of you?"

"What about us, Miss Drew?" Miguel asked, interested.

"I mean, how is it that you can trust each other? You're a criminal and Agent Phelps is an officer of the law. You killed Randy because you didn't trust him," Nancy said.

"We are doing this for our own reasons, Miss Drew," Miguel said.

"That may be true," Nancy said. "But you sure are putting out a lot of money for them. What's to say Agent Phelps won't turn you over to the FBI as soon as he walks out of those doors?"

Miguel glanced over at the agent, thinking about what Nancy was telling him. Nancy smiled to herself as she watched the agent slowly begin to shake his head. "Don't listen to her, Miguel. Don't you see what she's doing? She's getting desperate so she's trying to turn us against each other."

Nancy smiled at the agent. "Sanchez seems to think I make a valid point."

Miguel looked at Nancy and then back at the agent.

"We can talk about this later," Agent Phelps said. "I say we get rid of our last problem and get out of here before the FBI swarms in."

Miguel nodded. "You're right—we will talk about this later." He turned his attention to Nancy. "You've been a wonderful guest, Miss Drew, but I'm afraid your time is up."

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"We should be arriving at Sanchez's place any moment now," Agent Brennan told the brothers. He was sitting in the front passenger seat of the Crown Victoria and Frank and Joe were in the back.

Frank just nodded and continued to stare outside the window at the passing scenery.

"How are we going to do this?" Joe asked.

"We're going to have agents all over the place," Agent Brennan. "I want to try to get in and avoid as much trouble as I can. I want this done in a clean manner."

Joe nodded, but didn't say anything. He wasn't going to argue with the agent, especially since he was letting him and Frank be involved in this in the first. He was already breaking some rules by allowing that to happen.

After fifteen minutes of driving, the car finally pulled up to the curb of an extravagant Spanish-style home that was surrounded by tropical flowers. Frank glanced around the home and saw that agents were in position all over the place.

Agent Brennan turned to look at the brothers. "I'm going to need the two of you to stay back. If you see Nancy, I need for you to remain calm and not rush in there. The only thing that will do is insure that she will be killed. Do you understand?"

Both brothers nodded reluctantly.

"Good." Agent Brennan pulled his gun from his holster and opened the door. "Let's go."

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**Why do I always end it on cliffies???**


	23. Coming to an End

**Author's Note: I am just moving on to the story now. I would really like to thank my betas, especially my newest one, Rosalunae. I hope that you enjoy and please review.**

**Even the trolls… **

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Nancy Drew knew she was screwed. And not just you basic garden-variety screwed—_royally screwed._

As she sat in the chair glaring at the two hardened criminals before her, she was surprised that she found herself wishing that Randy was here right now. And that was only because she knew how he worked, thus ensuring her way out of this mess.

Instead, he was dead and she was facing off with the rogue agent and crime lord—two opponents that she basically knew nothing about. And that fact alone scared the crap out of her more than she cared to admit to herself. After all, she had just pitted the two of them against each other and they were still hell-bent on killing her.

And soon.

Nancy slightly tensed as Agent Phelps approached her, a leering smile on his face. He then walked behind her, unlocked the cuffs around her wrists, and pulled her up to her feet.

"It's time to pay the man upstairs a little visit, Nancy," he said softly, holding onto her arm in a bruising grip.

Nancy remained silent, refusing to give the agent the satisfaction of a response.

"Where do you want me to take her?" Agent Phelps asked Miguel.

Miguel was about to answer him when his cell phone began to ring. He pressed the TALK button and listened. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, snapping his phone shut.

"What is it?" Phelps asked.

"The FBI—they're here."

Nancy grinned. "Looks like your plans are crashing down."

Miguel smiled at her, but it was full of malice. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Miss Drew." He walked around his desk towards her. "We may have to make a few adjustments to our plans," he said to Phelps. "You take care of the FBI and I'll take care of our guest."

Phelps didn't argue as he pushed Nancy towards Miguel. Miguel grabbed her arm and before Nancy could even think about getting away, he pulled out a dagger and held it up to her.

"Don't say a word," Miguel said coldly as he pushed her through another door.

As she was shoved through the door, Nancy couldn't help but think that her luck had finally run out.

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"Is it just me or is it too quiet around here?" Joe whispered as he and Frank cautiously followed Agent Brennan through the house.

"You have to remember that our backup got here before us and they rustled up everyone they could find," Agent Brennan said. "But you are right—it is a little too quiet."

"I don't like this one bit," Frank said softly.

"Neither do I," Agent Brennan agreed. "But we just have to hope that Sanchez and Jack are lying low and that Nancy is still alive."

"She is," Frank said.

Agent Brennan looked back at the oldest brother.

Frank shrugged. "I can't explain it, but I can just feel it."

Satisfied with the answer, Agent Brennan started to walk again when his radio crackled.

"What is it?" Agent Brennan asked softly.

"We found a body on the patio," a disembodied voice said.

Frank felt his insides freeze up.

"Do you have an ID?" Agent Brennan asked.

"It appears to be Randy Wolfe."

Frank let out a sigh of relief and exchanged a look of surprise with Joe.

"All right," Agent Brennan said. "Keep searching and we'll deal with it later."

"Roger," the voice said and the radio once again grew silent.

"I guess Randy stopped playing by the rules," Joe commented as they continued on.

"Yeah and that worries me," Frank said. "If they're willing to sacrifice Randy, then there's no way they're just going to let Nancy go."

Joe heard the worry in his brother's voice and his heart ached. Frank would never survive if Nancy was murdered. He had admitted that to him earlier and Joe knew it was true. Joe hoped, for both their sakes that they got Nancy out of this alive.

Agent Brennan broke into Joe's thoughts as he stopped in front of a large wooden door. Nodding for Frank to open the door, the agent took his position, his gun at the ready. Frank cautiously turned the knob and flung the door open as he jumped out of the way to let the armed agent in.

What greeted them surprised them all.

"I was wondering when you would get here, Cory," Agent Phelps said from where he was perched on the desk. Frank could clearly see the gun that was sitting in his lap.

"Put down the gun, Jack," Agent Brennan said. "Right now."

Agent Phelps just smiled at his former partner.

"Why did you do it, Jack?" Agent Brennan asked, his grip tightening on his gun.

"Money, of course," Phelps answered, smiling. "It is what makes the world go round, after all."

"Money isn't everything," Brennan said. "But the oath you took to protect the citizens of the United States—that means something."

"Not to me. Not anymore," Agent Phelps said. "There are better opportunities in the world, Cory, than waiting around just hoping that one day you'll advance in a job where no one appreciates you."

"I wouldn't call working for Miguel Sanchez an opportunity," Agent Brennan said.

"Call it what you want," Phelps said, shrugging. "I knew where my talents were needed and where they would be appreciated."

"So luring people to their death and double-crossing is a talent now?" Frank asked, blood boiling.

Agent Phelps looked at Frank and chuckled. "I don't know. Why don't you ask your fiancé?"

Frank lunged towards the rogue agent, but Joe grabbed him before he could get too far. "Where is she?" Frank yelled.

Agent Phelps smiled. "Right this second? I would say that she's begging Sanchez to spare her life."

"You son of a bitch!" Frank yelled, struggling against Joe's hold. "Tell me where she is!"

Phelps kept goading him. "Miguel was very intrigued by her. There's no telling what he has planned for her. And if I know him, there won't be anything left to identify when he's finished with her."

Frank finally broke free from Joe and lunged towards the agent. But he stopped short when Phelps brought up his gun and held it level to Frank's head.

"I have nothing left to lose, Mr. Hardy," Phelps said in a chilly voice. "Shooting you would just be another name on my list."  
"Jack, put the gun down," Agent Brennan said.

Phelps glanced at his former partner and shook his head. "I can't do that, Cory. I'm already in deep enough as it is. All I can do is keep going down."

"You can still turn this around, Jack."

"How?" Phelps asked.

"Turn against Sanchez," Brennan said. "You can still bring him down and save yourself."

"You forget about my other numerous charges I have against me," Phelps said. "I help you and I'm still looking at the death penalty."

"If you help, we can get the judge to be lenient," Brennan said. "You would just serve time."

Phelps laughed. "Yeah, a nice long lifetime spent rotting away in a place where everyone would love to get their hands on me."

"Please, just help me save Nancy," Frank pleaded with the agent-turned-criminal.

"That really is sweet, Mr. Hardy," Phelps said. "What are you willing to risk to get your love back?"

"Everything," Frank said fiercely.

"Your life?" Phelps asked.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

Phelps smiled. "Your Nancy is dead as far as I'm concerned. But if it's any consolation, you can now join her."

Time seemed to move in slow motion as Frank saw Phelps' hand tighten on the trigger. His body refused to move, no matter how much his mind was screaming at him to get down. He thought he heard Joe screaming as he heard the gunshot and felt himself falling to the ground.

Frank closed his eyes tightly and braced himself for the pain that never came. He opened his eyes and saw that Joe was on top of him and Agent Phelps was on the floor beside him, clutching his shoulder in pain. Agent Brennan ran over and kicked the gun away.

"You okay?" Joe asked his brother.

Frank nodded slowly as Joe helped him up from the floor. He then focused his attention to the fallen ex-agent. "Where's Nancy?"

Agent Phelps glared at Frank and sighed. "He took her somewhere."

"Where?"

"I'm not sure."

Frank looked up at Brennan and he nodded. "Go—I'll stay here."

Frank was out of the door as soon as the words were out of the agent's mouth.

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"Where are we going?" Nancy asked as Miguel led her down a long hallway.

"To my special place," he said. "It's where I do my best thinking."

"You need to think about whether to kill an innocent person or not?" Nancy asked.

"I don't need to think about it, Miss Drew," Miguel said. "I already know you're going to die."

Nancy didn't say anything else as he pushed open a door and shoved her in, making her fall to the ground. She quickly got to her feet as he shut the door and locked it.

If Nancy wasn't in a life or death situation, she would have taken the time to appreciate the décor. The room was lavishly furnished, much like the rest of the house, in deep reds and golds. To the side of the room was a bar that was stocked with every alcoholic beverage imaginable and beside the bar was a large leather sofa. There were a few chairs scattered around the room and in the center sat a very expensive billiard table.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've gotten to kill a woman?" Miguel asked, toying with his knife.

Nancy swallowed hard. She certainly didn't like how this conversation was starting out.

"It's been five years," Miguel said as if she answered. "Five years since this blade has tasted the blood of a woman. And let me tell you, Miss Drew, she was a real screamer." He looked up at her and Nancy felt a violent chill go through her body. "But something tells me you're not. Something tells me you're a fighter. Are you a fighter, Miss Drew?"

Nancy glared at him.

"Not too talkative, I see," Miguel said taking a step towards her. "Funny, you seemed to have a lot to say earlier."

Nancy took a step back. "What can I say? I'm not the one for idle chat when I'm about to die."

Miguel chuckled. "Fair enough." Another step closer. "You do understand why I can't let you walk out of here. I have built a very profitable business and I can't have you running out and telling people. That would be very damaging to me."  
"I figured that," Nancy said, backing up until her back was against the wall.

Miguel smiled. "If it means anything, I'll make it very quick."

Anger seemed to overcome Nancy. There was no way that she was going to let this man take her down without a fight. She at least owed herself that. Before he could get the knife up near her, she lashed out and pushed him away from her. She kicked her leg out to try to disarm him, but he quickly sidestepped her, and turning her around, he slammed her against the wall once more and brought the dagger to her throat. She slightly winced when she felt it slice into her flesh and warm blood started to trickle down her neck.

"You _are _a fighter," he said appreciatively.

"You're damn right," Nancy said, as she kicked her leg out. She felt it connect with his shin and he fell to the ground, clutching his leg tightly. She wasted no time as she pushed past him and ran towards the door.

"You bitch," she heard Miguel mutter as he got up from the floor.

Just as she was unlocking the door, Miguel reached out and grabbed her hair, forcing her to fall to the ground. He was on top of her before she could even try to get to her feet, the dagger once again pressed against her neck and her face inches from her.

"I thought you liked a fighter," Nancy said, breathlessly.

Miguel chuckled, but it was humorless. "I do, Nancy, which is going to make your death that much more enjoyable. But I'm curious—how were you able to get away from Randy when I was able to pin you down so easily?"

Nancy didn't say anything as she brought her hands up and began to claw at his face. He screamed in pain as she dug in and then grabbed her hands roughly and forced them above her head.

"Enough games, Miss Drew," he said through clenched teeth as blood trickled down from his face from the scratches she inflicted. He pressed the dagger deeper into her skin.

Nancy swallowed hard, nearing panic. She had tried everything to get away from him and all it had managed to do was piss him off even further.

"NANCY!"  
Nancy's eyes widened as she heard Frank's voice calling her name.

"Frank!" Nancy managed to scream before Miguel put his hand over her mouth.

"Looks like we're about to have company," Miguel said. "I've always enjoyed an audience."  
He began to slice into her skin as the door flew open and she heard Frank's booming voice.

"Get off of her!" Frank plowed into the crime lord and tackled him to the ground. Nancy scooted away quickly, ignoring the blood that was oozing down her neck, as she watched the two men duke it out.

Though Frank was much younger than the criminal, Sanchez was still able to do a good job of defending himself. Frank was trying in vain to get the knife away from him, but Sanchez was able to get a good cut in on Frank's arm before the knife fell from his grasp.

Frank jerked away and brought a hand to his arm as Sanchez once again went for the knife. Nancy saw this and not wasting any time, she grabbed one of the various liquor bottles from the bar and brought it down onto his head, glass shattering all around him.

At first, Nancy wasn't sure the blow even fazed him. But as she watched, she saw his eyes slowly roll upwards and he fell into a crumpled heap on the floor.

Nancy let out a sigh of relief and fell to the floor herself, but it was from pure exhaustion. Frank got up from the ground and quickly crawled over to her, ignoring the glass that littered the plush carpet.

Nancy felt tears spring to her eyes as he grabbed her into a fierce embrace. She just let the warmth of his body overcome her and pushed into him tighter.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered softly, sobbing.

Frank moved back from her and cupped her face. He kissed her softly and smiled at her. "You know you can never keep a Hardy down for long."

**One more chapter to go...**


	24. All's Well That Ends Well

**Author's Note: Let us take this moment and let out a sigh. It is the last chapter of "Remember Me." I know you want to cry, as do I. Every time I finish a story, I feel saddened but happy at the same time. It is a sense of accomplishment for me and it makes me feel wonderful.**

**I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you for your reviews, even the bad ones. They keep me going and they make me more determined than ever to continue writing. So, thank you for that.**

**Well, let me know what you think about this chapter and the story as a whole. I am going to take a small break from Nancy Drew and try my hands at Supernatural. I will be back with another story, but I just don't know when.**

**On to the story!**

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_Two days later…_

_River Heights_

"How are you feeling, honey?" Carson asked his daughter as he came down into the den where Nancy was resting comfortably on the sofa. She looked up and saw that he was dressed sharply in a tailored suit.

Nancy smiled at her father and nodded. "I'm feeling good."

Carson smiled his own warming smile. "I'm glad to hear that."  
"I'm just glad that it's all over and I can finally relax now," Nancy admitted, stretching out her slender frame.

"It's about time she decided to relax," Frank commented from where he was standing in the doorway. "It's a welcome change for her."

"I'll have to agree with you there," Carson said. He leaned over the sofa and gave Nancy a peck on her forehead. "I'll be home later."

"And where do you think you're going, Mister?" she asked, arching a brow.

Carson smiled sheepishly at his daughter. "Gwen and I are going to the symphony in Chicago."

"You two sure are spending a lot of time together," Nancy said, smiling.

"You better be careful, Mr. Drew," Joe said as he pushed past Frank into the den. "Tonight, it's the symphony and tomorrow, you're walking down the aisle."

Carson shot Joe an amused smile. "I don't think we're moving that fast. But I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Joe just shrugged as Carson walked out of the den.

"So where have you two been?" Nancy asked the brothers as they sat down—Frank beside her on the sofa and Joe on a plush recliner opposite them.

"Guy stuff," Frank answered.

"Yeah, the problem with that excuse is that it only works with girls," Nancy said.

"We just had to take care of something," Frank said. "You'll find out about it soon enough."

Nancy just sighed and glanced at his upper right arm, which had a bandage wrapped around it. "How's you're arm feeling?"

"A little bit of pain, but nothing I can't deal with," he answered.

"I leave my brother alone for five minutes and he manages to get himself into a knife fight," Joe said, shaking his head.

"Well, it wasn't too fair of a fight when Sanchez was the only one that was armed," Frank said.

Joe was about to say something else when he was interrupted.

"Knock, knock!"

"Who's there?" Joe replied with no hesitation.

"Sorry, I forgot the punchline," Agent Brennan said as he walked into the den. He looked tired and ragged, but at the same time Nancy could see the pride in his eyes.

"Your father let me in," the agent said to Nancy. "I hope that's okay."

"Considering what you've done for us, it's more than okay," Nancy said.

"So how are you doing?" he asked, taking a seat on the ottoman.

"I'm good," Nancy answered. "These two have made sure I've done nothing but relax."

"It's certainly what I would have recommended, considering what you've been through these last few weeks," Agent Brennan said.

"So, how's the case going?" Frank asked.

The agent let out a tired sigh. "It's moving along. There's still a lot of work that needs to be done, but we're getting there."

"Are you going to be able to build a case against Phelps and Sanchez?" Nancy asked.

"Oh yeah," Agent Brennan said, nodding. "Jack has decided to become very helpful and has implicated Sanchez in everything."

"I warned Sanchez that Phelps would turn on him if he had to," Nancy said.

"I swear, criminals never believe anything we tell them," Joe said thoughtfully.

"Jack happened to keep very detailed records of their transactions—tape recordings, deposit slips, everything. He has so much crap on Sanchez, not even his lawyers can talk their way out of this one and they know it. They're trying their best to reach a plea bargain," Brennan said. "But something tells me that Jack did this more for himself than to help out the FBI."

"What's going to happen to Phelps?" Joe asked.

"He's still going down for two counts of murder, not to mention attempted murder, kidnapping, and numerous other charges," Agent Brennan answered. "I'm pretty sure he'll never step foot out of prison again."

"Did you find Agent Marrow?" Nancy asked.

Brennan nodded sadly. "Jack had put him in a closet before Frank, Joe, and I confronted him. The sad thing is if Jack hadn't done that and we'd have seen Paul earlier, he never would have died. The coroner said he bled out." Agent Brennan shook his head. "Paul was a good man with a family. I'm flying out tonight to Philadelphia for his funeral."

Nancy's heart ached for the agent that was sitting across from her. "I really am sorry."

Brennan nodded. "Yeah, I am too." Then he took a deep breath. "So, I was wondering, Nancy, did you ever remember anything that happened to you?"

Nancy shrugged. "The only thing I remembered is what I told you when I gave my statement—Phelps was the one who served me up to Randy. Other than that, my mind is still pretty much a blank. And though I would like to have some answers, I also think at the same time, it may be a blessing. Maybe I'm not supposed to remember that for a reason."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Agent Brennan said. "Your mind is doing it's best to protect you from something horrific. If it were me, I would just chalk it up to one of life's little mysteries."

Nancy smiled and nodded. "So, what about you? This case was pretty huge for you, so what's going to happen to you?"

Agent Brennan grinned. "The FBI offered me a promotion."

"That's great!" Nancy said.

The agent's grin turned into a full-blown smile. "I turned it down."

"What?!"

Brennan shrugged. "It would have been a cushy desk job up at Quantico. I'd rather be out in the field protecting people."

"I can't blame you there," Frank said.

Agent Brennan glanced down at his watch and stood up. "I better get going. My flight leaves in an hour."

"Thank you for everything," Nancy said, sincerity in her voice.

"Are you kidding?" Agent Brennan asked. "I should be thanking the three of you."

Nancy shook her head. "I'm just glad that we could help."

Agent Brennan smiled. "It really was a pleasure to work with the three of you. If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to call me."

"We'll keep that in mind," Frank said.

The agent shook their hands and then left just as quickly as he came in.

"So, are you going to tell me what the two of you were up to or not?" Nancy asked.

"This is really bugging you not knowing, isn't it?" Frank asked.

"Yes!"

Frank smiled and then glanced over at Joe who gave a slight nod. Frank then turned to look at Nancy again. "You know how you said you wanted to go on a real vacation?"

Nancy nodded, slightly suspicious.

"Pack your bags, Drew," Frank said, pulling out a sheet of paper from his back pocket. "We're on our way to the Bahamas, where there is nothing but the promise of sun, sand, and relaxation."

THE END


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